


The Debtors Wilkes, the Divine Guide, and Seven Particularly Nasty Debt Collectors

by Cosmicstardust



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: 1920s, Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Angels, Comedy, Dark Comedy, Demons, Divine Interference, F/M, Seven Deadly Sins, Supernatural Elements, divine beings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 121,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23788744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cosmicstardust/pseuds/Cosmicstardust
Summary: Following her father's untimely death, Theodora Wilkes finds herself indebted to a number of suspicious people. The loan sharks are the least of her worries, though, as she finds out her father sold his soul to keep their theatre afloat. Due to the nature of his death, his debt was never paid, and now, because of a loophole in the contract, that debt has been passed onto her.Officially on borrowed time, Theodora and her Divine Guide, Carlisle, must absolve each of her debts, one by one. If she falls victim to the debt collectors' charms, even once, the deal is off, and her soul will be taken. But Theo is no damsel in distress, and she won't go down without a fight.Inspired by and dedicated to The Brothers Bright.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. Theophilus Wilkes

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go! This is my first time publishing a completely original work on AO3, so... fingers crossed! To all of my previous readers, thank you for continuing to support me, even in my original work! And, to all new readers, welcome! I hope you enjoy this zany adventure! :^)
> 
> The chapters for this work will probably end up being much shorter (respectively) than some of my other work, but, honestly, who knows. I say that, but we all know I'm a liar.
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr (longhairedantagonists), and on twitter (@soowonheika).

The death of Theophilus Wilkes shook the entertainment industry of New York for as long as the papers continued to report on it. Described as a  _ freak Vaudeville accident _ and  _ elaborate plot to bring in more customers _ by the muckrakers, his death was mourned by many of the small-time actors off-Broadway, most of which had gotten their start in his very theatre.

On the night of June 8th, 1925, the Starry-Eyed Fortuna, Mr. Wilkes’ playhouse, was filled to the brim with paying customers— some ecstatic to finally be given a chance to see the best Vaudeville acts off-Broadway, some investigating the very envy of the theatrical world, and some preparing to collect some long-overdue debts.

Over the course of his lifetime, Theophilus had spread himself far too thin in almost all aspects. Economically, he had drained every last resource he was given; emotionally, the toll had become far too great, and he often drank to ease the strain of everyday pressures; physically, he seemed perfectly healthy, at first glance, but would often come from his performances short-of-breath, looking more and more haggard with each passing day. Far too haggard for a man in his mid-40s, most would agree.

Despite all that, his death was completely accidental.

The acts had all gone off without a hitch, each and every one receiving deafening applause from the immense audience. The people practically trampled each other in an effort to stand, and give the best ovation they could manage. There were calls for encore, whistles, whooping and hollering, all creating an overwhelming, otherworldly thundering that could be heard even three city blocks away.

Only seven people did not cheer, standing in the alcoves of the balcony, their eyes hard, icy, completely void of warmth.

Theophilus took the stage, and the cheers continued, only dissipating when the music began.

“This is the last act.”

“Madame, what’ll we do?”

“Fret not.” The tall, slender woman— wearing a large, black floppy hat that obscured half of her face— brought her cigarette holder to her lips, contemplating. The air about Mr. Wilkes was entirely wrong, even though he was about to perform the song he enjoyed so thoroughly.

She may have said  _ fret not _ , but even she was not so sure.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Theophilus announced, his sonorous voice booming over the room. The audience held their breath, waiting for the next and final act, completely unaware of just how  _ final _ it would be. The music began, a plucky tune on the piano. “The theatre is the best place to come, decompress, forget the woes and worries of the outside world!”

The woman in the hat scoffed.

“As long as you are here with me, nothing can ever hurt you!”

Both Theophilus and the woman in the hat knew this to be a blatant lie.

Keeping her eyes glued to the man on stage, she blew out a smoke ring, too perfect, too round. Theophilus began to sing— an activity she, personally, took no enjoyment in, although the plebeians did— commanding attention to each and every move, every word that escaped his mouth acting as a spell for the audience.

_ “Here in the theatre, we are all friends. _

_ Out there, in the city, we are all foes. _

_ So before we give in to the madness of the world, _

_ Let’s have some fun!” _

“He’s an utter fool.”

“Patience, love. It is the final act, after all.”

It was, indeed, to be Theophilus’ last song. Forever.

The seven debt collectors knew it to be true, as did he.

_ “It’s a wonderful life! Open your eyes, O Sleeper, _

_ And see the forest for the trees!” _

As he neared the end of his song, his eyes scanned the upper balcony, knowing full well that his collectors would be there, that they were watching him, the only disapproving bunch in the whole room.

_ “The theatre is where we all belong! _

_ You and yours, me and mine, _

_ We’ll all be here ‘till we’re long gone!” _

Locking eyes with the woman in the hat— he had been expecting her to show her face around his playhouse for a while, now— he swept his arms across his chest, taking off his top hat and posing with it in a single, fluid motion, giving her the biggest, warmest smile he could.

The smile, though, was odd to one person in particular, waiting in the wings, carefully watching his performance. He never smiled like that before, never in rehearsal, or in any other performance.

_ “Ladies and gentlemen, _

_ I thank you for your kind patronage, _

_ For now, _

_ and for evermore!” _

With one long, lasting note, his voice a beautiful tenor, it seemed as if he shook the foundation of the building. He continued to hold it, truly a master of his craft, until the spotlight overhead came loose from its bearings, and fell, crushing his skull, completely braining him in front of hundreds and hundreds of people.

A different kind of cacophony exploded within the playhouse at that very moment. Women collapsed, falling to the floor with dull thuds, screams ripping from the throats of audience members and actors, alike.

“Mr. Wilkes!!!”

“Someone get the police!!”

“ _ Papa!! _ ”

People swarmed the stage, gathering around the body, the late Theophilus Wilkes’ head buried under the spotlight, the impact creating a hole in the wooden stage. His arms and legs were splayed about, bent uncomfortably (but not completely unnaturally), as a scarecrow would look when knocked off of his perch, his pumpkin head smashed to bits.

The woman in the hat watched this scene, her eyes never leaving the corpse of her client, people pushing past her as if she didn’t exist.

“That bastard!”

“He’s conned us!”

“Now, now,” she spoke, smoke billowing around her mouth, “it would serve you well to observe.”

“Observe  _ what _ ? That son of a bitch dying right as we came to collect?”

“He owes  _ all _ of us. I’m  _ horribly _ short-staffed.”

The six others began to bicker amongst themselves, claiming that one is more short-staffed than another, that one needs to collect more than the other, and so on… it was all mindless drivel to the woman in the hat.

She wasn’t paying attention to the whining and bickering happening around her. Instead, she was focusing on the young lady who was helping remove the spotlight from Mr. Wilkes’ head, her expression set in determination, desperation.

Her hands were already covered in blood from trying to reach into the crater, some of the others grabbing her by the arms and pulling her away. Thrashing about, she screamed, tears streaking her face, ruining her makeup that she had, no doubt, spent quite some time putting on earlier that evening.

“No! Let me go! Let me go to him!!”

“Theo, you can’t!”

“Let me  _ go _ !”

But they didn’t. They couldn’t, for fear that Theophilus’ only child would throw herself into that crater, desperately hoping against hope that she could save him. No amount of hope could save him. His heart had long since stop beating.

The woman in the hat smiled, perhaps to herself, before clicking her tongue, and leaving the theatre in a calm, orderly manner. The seven debt collectors left just as quietly as they came, and only one left with her dues completely paid.

A week later, the funeral procession passed the Starry-Eyed Fortuna, what had been, in many ways, the unofficial second child of Theophilus Wilkes. His living, breathing daughter, Theodora (or Theo, for short), led the procession, clad entirely in black, the veil over her face covering the tear tracks on her cheeks.

Following her were many of the actors, both current and former, that had worked with Theophilus, all of which were wearing the gaudiest all-black outfits they could manage. He had been an over-the-top man— an ordinary funeral wouldn’t have been good enough for him.

The late, great entertainer followed them, his coffin painfully plain, but all that they could afford. Theo was only beginning to realize just how much money they  _ didn’t _ have, despite their success in the entertainment business.

Many people approached her, patted her on the back, whispered words on condolences, but she didn’t hear much of it, at all. She didn’t see much, either, with the exception of the dreadfully dull crate that held the only family she had left.

Her eyes were glazed over, completely unresponsive, as they lowered Theophilus into the ground, the kind people whispering words of prayer. But prayers hadn’t ever done them any good, and it certainly wouldn’t do him any good now, either.

For the entirety of the funeral, Theo said nothing. Theophilus’ songbird was painfully quiet, which only proved to unnerve the regulars of the theatre— past and present, staff and clientele.

No one mentioned it. They knew better, having witnessed the brutality of the Great War only a decade prior. No words could comfort, and nothing but time could heal those wounds.

“It’s a pity,” some would say, “she’s such a kind girl.”

“And talented.”

“To lose her father in such a devastating accident…”

To say the least, many of them would not have been surprised if her obituary was printed within the week.

Finally, Theo was allowed to return home. Or rather, to the theatre, which was the only home she had ever really had.

When her father had been alive, it had been her home. Now, it was just a bitter reminder of piling debts, and a waste of resources.

Debt collectors had shown up every day in the week leading up to the funeral, having absolutely no sympathy for the mourning Theo. No, they had outstanding payments that needed to be addressed, and Death was no excuse to ignore business.

“Miss Wilkes,” they always said. “I am deeply sorry for your loss.”

By the second visit, she knew that they, in fact, were not deeply sorry for her loss.

“Your father, rest his soul, borrowed from us, and we are afraid that he did not pay back his loans before his untimely passing,” they would explain.

“But I don’t have any money,” she would try and reason. After all, even if Theophilus  _ had _ left her something of import in his will, it would’ve gone straight to the previous debt collector, anyway.

“Then I am afraid you will have to find a way to pay us back what is due, Miss Wilkes.”

“But—”

“I deeply apologize, Miss Wilkes, that is simply the nature of the business.” And, for some reason, they always felt the need to add, “If your father was not responsible enough to pay back his dues, then perhaps he should not have taken them out to begin with.”

They loved to add that as they were leaving, as if having the last laugh.

When someone knocked on the door to her room, the day of the funeral, Theo was ready to give them a piece of her mind. She had just buried her  _ father _ , couldn’t they wait  _ one day _ ? Give her  _ one afternoon _ ?

With a sigh, Theo called out, “Who is it?”

“Miss Wilkes? Do you mind terribly if I come in?”

A woman. Great. Probably one of Theophilus’ “long-lost loves” that knew him back in the day, and, after having a whirlwind romance, was promised a small share of his nonexistent fortune.

Regardless, Theo answered, “Come in,” although she was entirely prepared to unleash a week’s worth of irritation on this poor, (no doubt) “grieving” woman.

When the door opened, she was half-expecting to see a woman dressed in over-the-top rags, ready to plead her case for how poor she was, how she had to raise Theophilus’ illegitimate child(ren), and so on, and so forth. After all, there had been four of  _ those  _ visits in the week leading up to the funeral, as well.

But, no. This woman needed no financial help in the slightest, it would seem.

“Miss Wilkes?” Her eye found Theo’s from under the brim of her large, black hat. 

“Yes…?” Theo blinked, somewhat dazzled. It felt as if she was glued to her spot, unable to move, but she also felt strangely content with that. “I-I’m… sorry,  _ terribly _ sorry. What, er… who are you?”

“Ah, how terribly rude of me,” the woman smiled, warm, off-putting. Without looking away from Theo’s eyes, she reached into her pocket, and produced a business card between her perfectly-manicured, sharpened red nails. “My card.”

Theo took it, only to see a blank, white card with

**THE ENTITY**

printed on it, the lettering extremely precise. Theo turned it over, but it was blank. That’s all it said.

“The… Entity?” she asked, laughing slightly, somewhat out of disbelief, and somewhat out of discomfort.

For some reason, though, she didn’t think The Entity was joking, as absurd as it was. Call it a hunch. The voice in the back of her head screamed warnings at her, urging her to keep her thoughts to herself, to respect this woman, no matter what. Fear gripped her stomach, awakening primal fight-or-flight reactions within her.

A deep part of Theo’s mind had the sinking feeling that The Entity could erase her from existence within  _ seconds _ .

The Entity was tall— taller than most men Theo had come into contact with— and slender, with a particularly androgynous build. Her clothes seemed to reflect this, perfectly tailored to reflect curves that she did not have. Her shirt was loose, with a deep cut, primly tucked into her trousers— a bold choice, if Theo was going to be honest, which she wouldn’t be.

A flash of perfectly curled, blonde hair poked out from under her hat, not a single hair out of place. Her lipstick, likewise, was also too perfect.

_ She _ was too perfect.

“That is my name, Miss Wilkes,” said The Entity, her voice a gentle, posh coo. Her accent reminded her of some of the actors that had visited from London, but even then, it was off, more polite, somehow. “I am here to discuss some business ventures with you.”

The way she stressed _business_ _ventures_ made Theo shift uncomfortably. Had the weight of the business card not kept her hands preoccupied, she would have wrung them together— something she never did, otherwise.

For some reason, though, she felt that wringing her hands together was the only proper thing to do.

“Is… that so?” Theo asked, her voice strained. Gesturing at the chair in the middle of the room, she offered, “Would you like to sit down?”

“How polite. Thank you.” Whether The Entity was pleased, or condescending, Theo couldn’t tell. They sat. The Entity lounged back, seeming much more masculine in her posture.

Theo, having grown up in the theatre, didn’t have very set views on gender. She had seen men who dressed as women, women who dressed as men, and some who didn’t seem particularly keen on either, at all, and some who preferred one or two or more. As a result, she was fairly open to however people wished to express themselves. After all, in the business, it didn’t matter so much as to what you looked like, but how well you could  _ act _ .

That being said, she had never met someone who perfectly embodied  _ all _ genders. The Entity was an exception to this, as she seemed to be with most things.

“Your father was a client of mine,” The Entity stated. Theo lowered her eyes, for just a moment, and when she looked at The Entity once again, she was holding a cigarette holder, already lit, in her hand, bringing it to her perfectly-outlined lips.

“... I see,” she replied, her voice quiet, strained. “I’m afraid I don’t have the money to pay you.”

The Entity chuckled.

“Oh, you needn’t worry, love. Your father paid what he owed  _ me _ .”

Theo had seen the books, all the finances— she  _ knew _ that wasn’t possible.

“I see that little confused look you have, Miss Wilkes, but let me assure you: it was not a  _ financial _ payment.” Once again, The Entity looked at her from under the rim of her large hat, one perfectly blue eye peeking out, but this time, her gaze sent a shudder through Theo.

_ What are you? _ Theo thought, and knew better than to ask.

“However, I am afraid I have some… rather upsetting news for you, Miss Wilkes.” The Entity blew out a perfect smoke ring, then folded her arms across her chest, tapping a fingernail against her arm. “Several of my colleagues were left  _ unpaid _ , and they are not particularly happy about it.”

_ Get in line, _ Theo thought, and also didn’t voice.

“Unfortunately, per the contracts that your father signed,  _ you _ are responsible for his debts.”

“I apologize, but—”

“These debts, too, are not of a financial nature.” With a sigh, The Entity cast a weary glance around the room. “I do not wish to frighten you, but these debts are of a rather serious price. Although, it  _ is _ possible to absolve them, should you be willing.”

That’s more than what she had been offered before.

“What exactly  _ are _ the debts?” Theo asked, quite unsure of herself. She was also quite unsure if she  _ wanted _ to know, if even  _ The Entity _ seemed to think they were serious.

Indeed, The Entity leveled her with an ice-cold stare, the temperature of the room dropping drastically.

“I am afraid they would prefer if I did not disclose all the details of each debt with you. However, it does have the same loose definition as  _ eternal servitude _ .”

“What?”

The Entity blew out another perfect smoke ring, snapping her fingers once. Theo blinked. When her eyes opened once more, The Entity was holding onto one end of a roll of parchment, letting the paper unfurl unceremoniously. At the top, in bright, red, precise lettering, it said  **_CONTRACT_ ** , followed by a solid block of text. The contract unfurled completely, the bottom of it brushing the floor.

“Miss Wilkes, your father made a deal to sell his soul in order to provide for this theatre.” Despite how ridiculous it sounded, The Entity was entirely serious, and it showed. “Not only that, he made a deal to sell his soul with seven different beings.”

It was a good thing Theo was already sitting down, otherwise she would have collapsed. Still, the room spun, the walls melting into a blur of muddled colors, although she and The Entity remained perfectly stationary.

“Of course, this situation is entirely unprecedented. How my colleagues did not anticipate a predicament such as this is beyond my understanding, I assure you.” With a prim roll of her eye, she examined her nails. “The bottom line is thus: your father promised his soul to my colleagues. However, because he chose his own death, and did not allow my colleagues to collect what they were due, the debt is currently outstanding.”

“And…” Theo gulped, blood draining from her face. “And now I’m…?”

Pointing to a byline within a byline within a byline, she nodded.

“Indeed. As you are his child— unfortunately for you, his  _ only _ child— it is in the nature of the contract for  _ you _ to provide  _ your _ soul in exchange for his.” The Entity clicked her tongue once. “It is simply the nature of the business.”

“But— wait!” Theo exclaimed, gaining some of her strength back as her mind furiously worked to make sense of the situation. “This doesn’t make any sense! Why do  _ I _ have to give away my soul?”

“It is a terribly long and convoluted story,” The Entity sighed, blowing out more smoke, and rolling up the contract. Theo wasn’t surprised, but also wasn’t entirely pleased with this explanation. “Besides, you are not  _ ‘giving it away’ _ . It is all explained within the contracts.”

Regardless of what the contracts stated, it sounded a lot like  _ giving her soul away _ to her. After all, she hadn’t made any deals— what was she getting in return? Instant death? Eternal servitude?

“You said I could absolve it.” Her tone was sharp, combative, but after receiving another stone-cold glare from The Entity, she immediately softened it. “How would I go about doing that?”

The Entity smiled— an expression that made Theo miss her glare— composed, poised, and ready to bargain. Above all, The Entity was a businesswoman; making deals with others had always been her most popular service through the years.

“The seven individuals that your father colluded with are rather influential— some may call it ‘manipulative’, however, that term has never sat well with me.” With a sigh, The Entity crossed her arms across her chest. “These colleagues of mine are becoming quite big for their britches. Indeed, they are becoming quite the thorn in my side,” The Entity grumbled, her perfectly-shaped mouth curving into an equally perfect frown. “If you were to assist me in putting them in their place, then I shall absolve all contracts that your father has made.”

“‘Put them in their place’?” she repeated, an unsettling confusion weighing on her shoulders. “How do you mean?”

Raising up her hand, The Entity exposed a beautiful ring, the gem cat-eyed and glowing in the dim light of the room.

“Each of them have, on their person, a ring such as this.” The ring called to Theo, forcing her   
attention to remain on the stone. “Your father was able to beat all of them at their own game— that is how the contracts were formed with such loose conditions in the first place. If you do the same, and win their rings in the process,” The Entity grinned, exposing too many teeth that were slightly too sharp, “then that shall prove to them that there are still some very clever people in this world.”

“And you would need…”

“All seven,” they said in unison, their voices overlapping in a way that made Theo rather uncomfortable, with nothing left to fill the silence that followed. At the very least, she was able to tear her eyes away from the ring, once The Entity returned her hand to her lap.

“If I were to get all seven rings—”

“ _ Fairly _ ,” The Entity emphasized. “No stealing.”

Who was she to argue?

“If I were to  _ fairly _ get all seven rings, you would absolve all of the contracts?”

Once again, The Entity smiled, cold, calculating. It was a smile that could be, and had been, seen on many a corrupt businessman when he makes a deal that is just  _ too good to be true _ , yet he knows that he comes out on top in the end, even if it falls to pieces for everyone else.

“Indeed, I would.”

  
  


Later that evening, as Theo laid on her bed, examining the pendant that The Entity had given her, her mind wandered. She thought of her father, of the theatre that he had sold his soul to build and protect, and of The Entity’s deal.

When Theo had protested that she had many more, tangible debts to address, her hairbrush fell off of her vanity, bringing her attention away from the otherworldly woman for just a moment. When her attention returned to The Entity, there was a suitcase on the table before her, filled to the brim with cash— more than enough to settle all of her father’s “debts of a financial nature”.

The Entity had informed her that the individuals that her father had made deals with were spread out between New York and Chicago, as having too many of them in a single area— and this, Theo remembered clearly— “could lead to catastrophes for those of you who live and breathe”.

Apparently, these manipulative individuals would try to coerce Theo to join them in a hellish eternity, surrounded by some vice or another. If she were to fall victim to any of their manipulations, she would be unable to absolve the contract, and therefore become one of their “eternal servants”, whatever that meant.

The pendant that she was given played a large role in this deal, as it seemed, although The Entity was vague on the details— as she was with most things.

“ _ Never _ take it off. Do you understand, Miss Wilkes?” The Entity had said, her voice sharper than a blade, sending waves of ice through her spine.

Theo  _ did _ understand, to say the least.

At one point, she asked what would happen if she  _ didn’t _ fulfill the tasks.

“If I simply say ‘no’, and refuse to do this for you, then what?”

The Entity thought for a moment, as if weighing her words carefully. All the while, she had that unreadable smile on her face. Theo couldn’t help but feel like a fly, caught in a spider’s web, but was sure it was just her imagination.

Then again… was she  _ really _ sure?

“Your soul is currently considered forfeit, Miss Wilkes. That being said, there will be some rather… dangerous characters who will be quite interested in you.” The Entity blew out another smoke ring, although Theo was quite sure she hadn’t seen her take a drag from her cigarette. Then again, she was also quite sure that she hadn’t seen The Entity’s cigarette shorten at all, either. “The longer you wait, the more dangerous your life will become.”

“These ‘dangerous characters’...” she trailed off, not sure she wanted to finish the question.

“Well, you  _ have  _ heard the phrase ‘have their guts for garters’, correct?” The Entity grinned once more, seeming a little too pleased at the image, revealing more teeth than is usually acceptable for a humanoid being. “They  _ live _ by it.” Theo’s stomach churned. At the warning, at the teeth, at all of it.

“... I see.”

The pendant that she was given didn’t look like anything particularly special. A simple, large teardrop pendant, with a gold setting, centered with a green gem. It didn’t reflect the light in the same way The Entity’s did, which was something that Theo was a little thankful for.

She had already put it on, and, in order to not fall victim to whatever evils were out there, was fully prepared to not take it off until otherwise instructed by The Entity.

A knock at her door brought her back to the present. It was late, but not late enough to ban visitors.

“Who is it?”

“Ah, Miss Wilkes?”

Theo stood, gathering her courage. Her earlier meeting with The Entity had started the same way, and she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that this wouldn’t be incredibly similar.

She was almost starting to miss the debt collectors.

Slowly, she walked to the door, her hand closing around the doorknob, hesitating for just a moment. There was no use in hiding from her fate, she figured, so she opened the door, just barely peeking around it.

The most handsome man she had ever seen was standing on the other side, smiling gently, exuding a comforting aura.

“Miss Wilkes?”

She had never been happier to have a gentleman caller,  _ that _ was for certain. Only making a  _ few _ slight choking sounds, she eventually stammered out,

“Yes?”

Taking off his hat, he held it over his heart. His black hair was well-kempt, and slicked-back, but Theo had never seen it look  _ so good _ on someone before.

“It is an absolute honor to make your acquaintance, Miss Wilkes,” he smiled brightly, radiating friendly energy. Opening up the door the rest of the way, she stood in the doorway. The man bowed slightly, and produced a card from his pocket.

Just like before, it was entirely blank, except for

**CARLISLE ADAMSON**

**DIVINE GUIDE**

printed on it, seemingly from a typewriter. It was a little less otherworldly than The Entity’s, although the verbiage begged to differ.

“I apologize for so rudely dropping in unannounced, however, I have become aware of your business proposition with The Entity, and I am here to help you.”

_Here we go again,_ Theo thought, although she didn’t entirely mean to. At least he had a _name_ and not _an epithet._ _Carlisle_ sounded much more welcoming than _The Entity._

“May I please come in?” he asked, the same bright smile on his face. He really did seem to want to help her.

“Um, please, go ahead.” Waving him in, she stepped to the side to allow him entry. As he walked in, she couldn’t help but notice how he towered over her— yet, it was in a way that made her think of the fully-enveloping hugs from her father, not of the men that lived in the rough parts of town.

“This is quite a lovely room, Miss Wilkes,” he said, as if he was any normal, human visitor. Even so, Theo found herself a little dazzled, perhaps because of all the otherworldly company she had been keeping that day.

“Thank you,” was all that she could think of saying.

Carlisle did not  _ look _ particularly divine, but Theo also had no experience with “Divine Guides” gracing her presence. Perhaps, in whatever “Divine” realm that he had come from, he was perfectly average.

Other than his overly-attractive features, and contrastingly bright eyes, Carlisle didn’t seem to stand out from any other human being. He could look like any businessman she passed on the street on her way to the market, particularly in the way he dressed himself.

Of course, as with The Entity, the longer Theo looked at him, the less convinced she was. It was entirely possible that she was just adapting to what he  _ might _ look like, as if her brain was desperately trying to catch up to something that was impossible to comprehend.

Either way, she didn’t find much comfort in this “Guide”. Sure, she was  _ thankful _ , because who in their right mind would want to go on this baffling quest on their  _ own _ ?

However, to say she was “comforted” would be, to say the least, a stretch. Nothing about having an inhuman, dazzlingly-attractive, looming-tall, suit-wearing, perfect-jawline-having “Guide” was  _ comforting _ .

“Um, so… Mister Adamson—”

“Oh, I insist, please call me Carlisle, Miss Wilkes,” he interrupted, politely. Never before had a man  _ politely _ interrupted Theo, but hey, that day had a lot of firsts.

“Then, ah… please call me Theo, as well, Carlisle.”

“Oh, I could never! That would be far too improper, especially for such a nice young lady, such as yourself.” Carlisle smiled, his teeth an otherworldly, blinding white. She wasn’t surprised.

“... Right,” she paused, pursing her lips together. “Would you mind if I asked what kind of ‘divine guide’ you are?”

It was the best way to ask  _ are you actually here to help me, or should I just cut my losses? _ At the very least, it was the most polite.

“I am  _ your _ Divine Guide, assigned to you by—”

“Ah, that is not— hm…” Theo thought of her options. “Are you, maybe… a…” she gestured vaguely, “... good guy?”

Carlisle paused, staring at her with wide, grey-blue eyes. This question, specifically, seemed to trouble him, as his lip quivered, and he brought a hand to his chin, his eyes cast downward.

“I…” he hesitated. “I like to  _ believe _ I am a good person. Is that acceptable, Miss Wilkes?”

What sort of heinous, villainous individual would answer like  _ that _ ?

Before Carlisle could start crying— as he seemed rather close to it, in that moment— Theo cleared her throat, and smiled gently.

“I’m glad to have your help, then, Carlisle.” Popping a hand on her hip, she stuck the other hand out for him to shake. There was a moment’s hesitation, and the thought occurred to her that  _ maybe _ Divine Guides don’t shake hands, which, subsequently, made her panic, and almost retract her hand, but then he took her hand and gave it a gentlemanly shake, thus banishing all of her fears.

“The pleasure is entirely mine, Miss Wilkes.” With a dazzling smile, and eyes that made her feel both comforted and on-edge, he gestured towards the cash-filled suitcase that The Entity had left for her. “If you would like, I could attend to your financial matters, so you will have more time to pack, and relax before the trials that await you.”

The less she had to deal with the Debt Collectors of a Financial Nature, the better, in her mind. They had gotten under her skin enough, and the last thing she needed was to have a bunch of nosy, gopher-like men weaseling their way into her personal life, or asking how she could ever get her hands on such a large sum.

“That would be the tops, thanks.” As he approached the suitcase, a thought occurred to her. “What  _ should _ I pack?”

“I must admit, Miss Wilkes, I do not have any worldly possessions of my own, so I cannot answer your query in an accurate manner,” he tittered, completely sheepish, as he locked the suitcase, and picked it up. “Whatever personal items you may need to last you… oh, I would say, mayhaps, three weeks?”

“Three weeks!” she exclaimed, her eyes bulging. Leaving the theatre behind, with neither one of the Wilkes running it, for three whole weeks? That was insanity! She couldn’t do that! “But— the theatre—” Glancing around the room, the panic began to build up in her core, the last of her reason unravelling like a poor attempt at a crocheting project.

“Miss Wilkes,” Carlisle cooed, approaching her, and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, centering her. For that moment, it was just the two of them— no worries in the world, nothing else that could hurt her. “I apologize for upsetting you, however…” he hesitated, his eyes filled with more sadness than she thought would be possible for someone who wasn’t human. “Fighting for your soul is no small feat.”

He was right, of course. Staring up into his eyes, the calm after the storm, warm, and human, and unsettlingly deep, she knew that.

“I suppose you’re right…” she mumbled, lowering her gaze to her feet. The theatre was her everything; it had been her  _ father’s _ everything, too. To just walk away from it, to abandon it for a time, she wasn’t sure she could do that.

But she didn’t have much choice in the matter, either. Not when her soul was, quote, “completely forfeit”, and available to… who knows what?

“Miss Wilkes, if you could pardon me for being so forward…” he started, hooking a finger under her chin, and lifting her gaze to meet his once more. It was gentle, as if he was afraid to hurt her. No one had ever treated her so delicately before, but she didn’t hate it, either. Not when the last of her family had died, and she was completely alone in the world. “Please, rely on me, trust me as your partner. I will do all I can to help you through this trying time. You are no longer alone.”

His words broke whatever spell she was under, a curse she had placed upon herself, where she insisted that she was strong enough to handle all of this alone, even though nobody  _ could _ handle it alone. His words, like true love’s kiss in a fairy tale, shattered that spell, and, for the first time since her father died, tears ran freely from Theo’s eyes.

Burying her face in her hands, she sobbed, choking on tears and mucus, desperately trying to get more air, her throat constricting as she sank to her knees, practically screaming out all of the pain in her heart.

She didn’t have to be strong anymore.

She didn’t have to be in control of her emotions anymore.

She didn’t have to be composed, and perfect, and only daintily cry as any mourning young woman should.

No. She was in pain, and the longer she kept the pain inside of her, the more it consumed her. But… the crying helped. The sobbing helped. Screaming  _ it’s not fair _ and  _ why did this have to happen? _ did more for her than any words of comfort ever did.

Carlisle stayed by her side the entire time, taking her into his arms, providing warmth that she hadn’t known she had been missing.


	2. Leopold Robertson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As mentioned in the synopsis, this work is heavily inspired by The Brothers Bright's music, so for this chapter, the song "Down Come Moses" really applies ;^)

When Theo opened her door the next morning she was met with,

“Good morning, Miss Wilkes!” Carlisle bellowed, standing right outside, making her jump about two feet in the air. He hadn’t knocked, he was just _standing there_ , for some indeterminate amount of time.

“Good— ha… Good morning, Carlisle,” she sighed, trying to calm her hammering heart. If their travels together were going to consist of him popping into existence right in front of her, she might just die of a heart attack before any vagrants could even reach her. Carlisle took her suitcase for her, that usual, friendly smile on his face, as if she hadn’t spent two hours sobbing into his shoulder the night prior. “Where are we going first?”

“The first on the list would be… hm,” he mused, digging his free hand into his pocket, and producing a small note. “A Mister Leopold Robertson. He is the one that is closest to here.” Replacing the note in his pocket, he began to walk, leading the way.

“The Entity was a little vague on what I have to do,” Theo muttered, crossing her arms across her chest. “I have to find them, beat them in whatever game they played with my father, and then get their rings? Is that all?”

“It would also be rather imperative to mind your behavior,” he frowned. “These individuals have made a point of tormenting humanity by tricking them into relying on their darkest, basest desires.” As they left the theatre— Carlisle held the door open for her, with a soft _after you, Miss Wilkes_ — he continued to explain, “Mister Robertson is a well-known, perhaps infamous, and rather convincing restauranteur. For that exact reason, Miss Wilkes...” He stopped, his eyes landing on her, the rest of the world melting away with just one look. “Please do not eat anything he has to offer you.”

His words weighed heavily on her, but, as usual, she had more questions than answers.

“Don’t eat?” she asked, unfortunately reminded of several childhood folk tales that had the same rules. _You eat, you stay_ , that was the general consensus for some unforgiving, otherworldly beings.

“Yes, no matter what.” His voice, deep and thunderous and carrying far more meaning than it ever had before, rattled her to her core. “You must _not_ give in.”

Swallowing hard, Theo looked away, noticing the tremble in her fingers. All too quickly, this seemed entirely real, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to face these… “people”.

“So… what _are_ these individuals? Are they human?” she asked, desperately trying to change topics, although she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. Carlisle’s hard glare softened, and he returned to his former (usual) self.

They began to walk again.

“... I believe some humans may call them ‘demons’, I suppose…” he mused, his voice unsure (a welcome change to its previous tone). “To us… I am afraid they are more of a corporate hazard…”

“A ‘corporate hazard’? What do you mean?”

“I am afraid that Divine Confidentiality Laws forbid me from saying anything more, Miss Wilkes. My apologies,” he tittered, passing her luggage from hand to hand.

Once again, Theo wasn’t necessarily surprised at this lack of information. The longer she spent with these otherworldly beings, the more she came to accept that there were certain things she was just not meant to know.

Part of her felt she was better off not knowing the details, anyway.

“I do hope I am not scaring you, Miss Wilkes.”

“No, no! Not at all!” she stammered, cracking an uncomfortable smile. “These are just _demons_! Nothing to be afraid of!” This display of false bravado would only fool someone who was incredibly naive, or horrendously inexperienced with socialization. So, of course, Carlisle was perfectly convinced that she was telling the truth.

“That is wonderful to hear, Miss Wilkes! I shall sing praises of your courage to my associates!” Giving her a smile that rivaled the radiance of the Sun, his eyes practically sparkled, sending a light, fluttering feeling through her chest. “Ah, I only wish I was half as courageous as you are!”

No wonder he was a Divine Guide. He could make _anyone_ feel at ease.

Even the pain of grief, which she had felt so deeply-rooted into her soul, seemed to slightly loosen its grip on her.

“I feel a little better knowing that you’ll be in there with me,” Theo smiled, holding her hands behind her back as they continued towards the first demon’s lair. Craning her neck to look at his face, she was only met with a blank, slightly-guilty-looking gaze.

“Oh, dear…” he murmured, the corners of his mouth pulling down in a sheepish frown. “I must have forgotten to mention...”

“Say it isn’t so…” she groaned, her good mood obliterated in a matter of seconds.

“I deeply, _deeply_ apologize, Miss Wilkes. It must have slipped my mind,” he sighed, deflating. “I am afraid you will have to enter these places alone, face your creditors alone, retrieve their rings _alone_ —”

“I get it! I’m on my own! You don’t have to rub it in!” Throwing her arms into the air, she stormed forward, cursing her luck under her breath. “What good is a Divine Guide who can’t even come in with me? A glorified chaperone, that’s all he is,” she grumbled.

Trotting to catch up with her, Carlisle held her suitcase to his chest, so as not to jostle it too much.

“Miss Wilkes!” he panted, despite being a divine being, and, therefore, having no need to breathe. He had simply witnessed mortals displaying the same action after running at any speed, and was unsure of the timing behind it all. There must have been a threshold of energy expended that would result in erratic breathing, however, he was unaware of where that threshold was. “Please wait!”

Trudging forward, Theo slumped, heaving a full-body sigh.

“I apologize, Miss Wilkes!” Carlisle cried, seeming much more flustered than usual. Casting a glance his way, she realized he was on the verge of tears. Well, “tears”, in the same sense that a grasshopper could be considered a bird.

His blue-grey eyes sparkled, the very heavens reflected in the pools of tears that were building up along his waterline. Indeed, Theo could see a blanket of stars within his eyes, sparkling in a way that she had rarely ever seen from the city.

A single tear fell onto his cheek, such a graceful act that it could be mistaken as choreographed. Instinctively, she reached up, and caught the tear on her gloved fingertip.

“I’m sorry, Carlisle. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.” Giving him the smallest smile, she retracted her hand, fascinated by the tiny universe held within his teardrop. “I’m just frustrated, is all.”

He nodded, and collected himself, still clutching the suitcase to his chest, his bottom lip quivering as he gazed at her.

“I apologize for showing you such an unprofessional display, Miss Wilkes. It shall not happen again,” he mumbled, hiding the lower half of his face behind her luggage.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” she smiled, hoping to instill even an ounce of confidence in him. “It’s the least I can do, since you’ve been so kind as to help me in the first place.”

His eyes met hers, sparkling (metaphorically), a great sense of calm washing over her. The longer she gazed into his eyes, the more of her vision they seemed to take up, the more she felt the pain drifting away, the more the world began to fall away around her. It was just the two of them, and she was fine with that.

His eyes were so beautiful.

They were the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

He was the most beautiful person she had ever seen.

She wanted more.

She wanted the calm he brought.

She wanted it all the time.

He was the one that gave it to her.

She could stay with him, couldn’t she?

_She could._

_SHE COULD._

**S H E** **_W O U L D_ ** **.**

Tearing her eyes away from his, she placed a hand to her temple, suddenly light-headed. The boundaries of her body finally resolidified, the noise of the world returning to her ears. Her eyes crossed, and uncrossed, her vision disoriented and blurred.

“--s?”

She could hear the automobiles, the bells, the horns, but not his voice. It was as if she was underwater, and he was trying to reach her from the surface.

It wasn’t until he placed his hands on her shoulders that she could hear him clearly again.

“Miss Wilkes?” he urged, concern written into his features. She could feel the slight tremble in his hands, hear the slight waver in his voice, her heart so heavy, its pounding shaking her to her core.

… No, it wasn’t her heart. It was something close to it.

Placing her hand over her chest, she brushed the Entity’s pendant with her fingers. It was practically hot to the touch, the energy within it pounding in synchrony with her heart. With violent bursts, the energy shifted within the pendant, as if threatening to break free of its crystalline prison.

“Miss Wilkes, are you quite alright? You look rather pale.”

Just like that, her heartbeat, and the energy within the pendant, calmed, almost instantaneously. It was almost as if the episode had never happened in the first place.

“Yeah… I’m fine,” she breathed, still feeling rather unsure of herself. “What… what was that? I looked at you, and then— the world—? It began to—” she fumbled, desperately trying to find the words to describe the illusory experience. “It was as if the world was melting away,” she managed, somewhat unsure. His brows furrowed, and he averted his gaze, his lips tugging down into a guilt-ridden frown.

“I do apologize, Miss Wilkes. I am afraid I may be to blame for such a phenomenon.”

“You? How?”

Somehow, she had the sinking feeling that she shouldn’t have asked. Even before he answered, she felt as if she had upset something sacred, something that humans were never meant to comprehend, and to ask about such a thing would rip the universe apart by the seams.

Unfortunately for her, the question had already been asked.

Double unfortunately for her, the question begged an answer.

 _Triple_ unfortunately for her, Carlisle had the answer, and was willing to share it.

“I fear that may have been due to my divine presence,” he began, wilting like a tulip. “As I am sure you can understand, it is quite uncommon for humans and divine beings to interact for long periods of time. Perhaps… I was not monitoring my own presence enough, and I accidentally overwhelmed you. I do apologize…”

His voice was quiet, completely without confidence. Theo couldn’t help but think that his tone of voice was so jarringly contrary to his appearance that it just didn’t fit, in the worst way possible. But, as he continued to deflate, his confidence seemingly vanishing more with each passing second, she could only watch in pitiful silence.

“If I may confess, Miss Wilkes…” he started, hesitating, “... this is my first assignment to the human world. My superiors had suspected that I was ill-prepared for the trials and tribulations of attending to, and, furthermore, protecting a human being… all because I come from Accounting...” Clutching the suitcase to his chest once more, his lip quivered. “... It seems they had been correct. Perhaps this assignment should have been left to someone with more experience, such as Ambrose, or Valentine… or even Horace.”

She didn’t know who Ambrose, or Valentine, or “even Horace” were, but it was obvious Carlisle felt inferior to them.

Puffing out her chest, she placed her hands on her hips, a newfound sense of determination taking over every ounce of sense in her body.

“Well— let’s show them what’s for, then!” she declared. “We can do it! We’ll show Ambrose, and Valentine, and _even_ Horace that you are more than capable of taking care of a human!” With a toothy grin, she cocked her head to the side, positively shining with a can-do attitude. “Help me out with this, keep your presence under control, and we can get this taken care of in no time at all!”

Leaning forward slightly, still clutching the suitcase to his chest, he looked at her with, dare she say it, a ray of hope.

“Do you… truly mean that, Miss Wilkes?” he asked, his eyes metaphorically sparkling once more.

“Sure do!” she chirped, turning to her side, and offering her arm to him. “Let’s go, Mister Adamson. I got your back, and you got mine.”

The softest of smiles bloomed on his face, lighting up all of his features— metaphorically— and he finally lowered the suitcase from his chest.

“Gladly, Miss Wilkes!” Joining his arm with hers, he gave her a smile that made her heart skip a beat. Swallowing down the butterflies that were building up in her stomach, she set her eyes forward, determined to end this nightmare.

  
  


“So this is the place, huh?”

The building loomed over them, its aura already churning her stomach. Despite its incessant twisting and untwisting, the distinct weight of hunger began to drag her down, its claws sinking into the lining of her stomach.

The scent of delicious and familiar blends of spices wafted out onto the street, tugging at memories that had long-since been buried.

“Yes, I am afraid so,” Carlisle sighed. Turning to face her, he set the suitcase down, and fixed all the wrinkles in her collar. “You are more than capable of overcoming this trial, Miss Wilkes. You have my utmost confidence.”

“Thank you.”

“While you are in there, I shall attend to our train tickets. In order to keep you as safe as possible, it is imperative to keep moving,” he explained, taking the note out of his pocket once more, and inspecting its contents. “According to the information I was given by my superiors, the closest individual is located in...” he paused, clicking his tongue a few times, “Albany. Not too far, thankfully. I daresay we may have this pickle taken care of lickety-split!”

She certainly hoped so. The less time she spent away from the theatre, the better.

Not to mention The Entity’s warning about those “dangerous characters” that would start coming after her. It was easy to let her imagination run away with itself, conjuring up images of all types of nightmarish creatures that salivate at the thought of eating her “forfeit” soul.

Summoning up her resolve, she straightened her hat, put a loose curl back into its place, and puffed out her chest. If she had to go down at all, she’d go down swinging.

Theodora Wilkes was no coward.

“You take care of our train tickets, Carlisle, and I’ll see if I can get an appointment with Mister Robertson.”

With unmistakable gumption, she set off, only to be _very quickly_ apprehended when Carlisle hooked his hand through her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

“Please wait a moment, Miss Wilkes,” he started, stepping up to her. Cupping her face in his gloved hands, he tilted her chin upwards until she was looking directly at him. Theo’s face immediately caught fire at the intimacy of the touch, but she didn’t move away.

With a soft smile that, in a way, felt like it was only for her, he gazed down at her. He truly towered over her— with _at least_ a foot difference between them— and yet, he didn’t make her feel small, or vulnerable.

She just felt _comfortable_.

“Please…” he said, his soft voice a welcome juxtaposition to the cacophony of the city. “Be safe.” His eyes shimmered as he looked at her, affectionate, hopeful. “I shall be waiting for you.”

With that, he released her, and stepped back, his smile becoming a little melancholic in the action. Heart hammering in her chest, she forced her eyes away from him, turning them back to the restaurant’s gaping maws.

She _would_ win. She _would_ get back safe.

If not out of spite, then for…

Casting one final look over her shoulder at Carlisle, who had been her foundation of support throughout the past 24 hours, she summoned her courage, and marched straight into the restaurant.

She wouldn’t let him down.

The inside of Robertson’s restaurant was so dimly lit that once the door closed behind Theo, she could barely see. The lobby seemed opulent, and yet, had a dingy quality to it that she couldn’t ignore. It was closer to an abandoned hotel than an operating restaurant.

Cigarette and cigar smoke hung in the air, muffling any and all sounds that the patrons made from the adjoining room.

The maître d’ looked her over from head to toe, quirking an unimpressed eyebrow at her. At that moment, an equally-obese rat, with patchy, rotting, matted fur, scurried past her feet, wheezing as it burrowed its way into the wall. Theo already felt sick to her stomach, but knew that she’d just have to grin and bear it.

 _It’s a performance,_ she thought, _a performance just like any other. You’re just going in blind, with no script, and told to improvize your way through it. Y’know, just like those acting exercises you always did._

She sure hoped it would be that easy.

Heart hammering in her chest— a primal fear taking root in her nerves— she approached the maître d’, waving away the smoke that hung in front of her face.

“Um, excuse me,” she said softly, hesitant to bring any more attention to herself than she already was. “I’m here to see… Mister Robertson.”

“He’s busy,” he snapped, his jowls pulling down into a frown. “If you’re not here to eat, then get lost.” A thread of spittle flew from his mouth, narrowly avoiding her face, and she couldn’t be more thankful.

She had to get in. She couldn’t just cut her losses and leave. Mind working fast, she pieced together a response, giving the maître d’ her coldest look.

“Tell him the sole child of Theophilus Wilkes is here to discuss the contract.”

The maître d’ leaned forward over the host’s stand, rolls of fat settling and overflowing off of the tiny wooden stand. Peering at her, his face fixed into a melted, sweaty frown.

“I _said_ , he’s _busy_ ,” he spat.

“Either _you_ get him, or I’ll just have to find him myself.”

“No. I’m not about to let an uninterested customer in here.”

He wasn’t budging, physically or metaphorically, and he wasn’t about to, either. His face said as much, loud and clear.

Heaving a sigh, she shrugged.

“Okay… guess I’ll try again tomorrow.” Turning on her heel, she headed back to the front door.

“Good riddance,” the maître d’ grumbled. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she saw him lean back, and struggle to maintain his balance.

Spinning on her heel, she dashed past the maître d’, into the main dining room of the restaurant.

“Hey!!” the maître d’ squealed, his slow, thundering steps struggling to clear the lobby. “Get back here!!”

“Mister Robertson?” Theo called, scanning the room for any people that seemed particularly divine. The only people she saw were human… or rather, they _were_ at one point in time.

The longer she looked at them, the more they made her skin crawl. Their ashy, pallid, blotched skin was far more reminiscent of overstuffed sausages than of people. To say they were grotesquely obese was an understatement; they were more like pigs long overdue for slaughter, their mouths working mindlessly as they shoveled food into their slobbering maws.

They mumbled amongst one another in their respective booths, unintelligible, but creating a steady din within the restaurant. When they weren’t, uh, “talking”, their loud chewing echoed off the filthy, food-stained walls.

The smoke hanging in the room created a thick haze that made it nearly impossible to breathe easily. Earlier, she thought it had been cigarettes, but, in that moment, she realized the smell was entirely wrong.

No… it was opium, not cigarettes.

“Nuts,” she hissed, covering her nose with her hand.

The maître d’ finally cleared the doorway, and was barreling towards her, his slow, unsteady steps reminding her of the two-part cows that she had performed with onstage. Both the front end and the rear seemed to have minds of their own.

“Impudent—” he wheezed, unable to finish his sentence from breathing so hard.

Needless to say, he wasn’t very much of a threat. She could _walk_ faster than him.

“Mister Robertson?” she called again, trotting into the center of the room. “Mister Robertson, are you in here?”

Squinting, she struggled to see through the haze, shapeless blobs sitting just past her field of vision. No one spoke up, but she could feel all of their eyes on her, glaring at her like monsters in the fog.

A thick, heaving cough broke through the silence.

“Who’s asking? Making such a damn racket!” a man shouted, his voice thick, as if he was talking with his mouth full. It came from the highest table in the restaurant, located on the second floor, right above the entrance.

“Theodora Wilkes!” Her temper truly was getting the best of her, if she could forget all of her prior trepidation about facing these beings. Then again, if Mister Robertson was anything like his maître d’, then she could just run.

“Wilkes?” he laughed, thick and wet, followed shortly by a coughing fit. “Collins! Get that girl a seat at my table!”

“Sir?” the maître d’ wheezed, his waistcoat soaked through with sweat.

“You heard me!” he commanded with a wheeze. “Miss Wilkes… come have a seat.”

His voice sent a shudder through her, reminiscent of the slimy businessmen that still equated an actress with a prostitute. As she ascended the stairs, she saw a point of light emerge through the haze— a match’s flame, shortly followed by the glow of a lit cigar.

Steeling herself, she never took her eyes off of that point of light.

Finally, she reached the second floor, wading through the haze until she finally laid eyes upon the grotesque beast known as Leopold Robertson. With sunken, glowing eyes, he watched her every move as she approached, holding a fat cigar between his gourd-like, wart-covered fingers. He had no visible neck, and the natural barrier between his torso and his legs was hidden beneath layers of fat.

“Come to settle your father’s debts, Miss Wilkes?” he asked, his voice thick with mucus. Her stomach churned at the sound of her name, especially coming from a man like _this_. “‘Bout damn time.”

He gave her a derisive laugh, followed by a deep, hacking fit. Fishing a handkerchief from his pocket, he covered his mouth as he continued to cough— after seeing how much the people here salivated, Theo was incredibly thankful for such a gesture, however minute.

Wiping his sweaty brow with the same handkerchief— an action that made her gag, particularly now that she could see that it was covered in stains of a dubious nature— he glared at her, tucking the putrid cloth back into his waistcoat pocket.

“Take a seat, girl,” he commanded, “and we’ll discuss your servitude.”

Oh, they would be discussing it, alright, but not in the way he was expecting, she was quite sure.

Collins— the ornery maître d’ from earlier— reached the top of the stairs, wheezing and dripping with sweat. Using the chair as a support, he took a moment to catch his breath before picking it up, and waddling over to the table, setting it before her.

The seat was still slick with his sweat, so she did her utmost to sit as far on the edge as she possibly could. The less physical contact she made with it, the better she felt.

Robertson’s eyes bored into her as he took a few puffs of his cigar, the acrid smoke wafting into her face. Collins, meanwhile, trudged over to the banister of the balcony, wracking his body with his deep wheezing. He sounded as if he was ready to cough up blood at any moment.

“You’re much more slender than the ones we usually get,” he commented, grinning, exposing rotting teeth, splotched with grey and yellow. Holding his cigar in one hand, he shoveled food onto his fork with the other, the silverware scraping the porcelain of the plate. “You’ll be good help. Better than Collins, at any rate.”

“I’m not here to accept your terms.”

He froze, his fork halfway between his plate and his gaping mouth, his glowing eyes flashing towards her.

“Pardon?” he asked, his patience obviously thin. It was less of a request to repeat the blasphemous words that had just escaped her lips, and rather, a chance for her to change what she was going to say in the first place.

Theo didn’t budge.

“I’m not here to accept your terms,” she repeated, folding her hands into her lap, and glaring at the creature before her. “I’m here to contest them.”

“ _Contest_ — _?!”_ he sputtered, pounding his fist on the table, his silverware clattering. “Absurd! Absolute _poppycock_!”

Focusing her attention on something _other_ than the strands of spittle flying from his mouth, she straightened her posture.

“So let’s—”

“And what makes you think I’ll _accept_ your terms, girlie?” Robertson sneered, picking up his fork between his discolored fingers and stabbing the slab of meat on his plate. Bringing it to his mouth, he bit into it like a feral dog, attempting to rip it apart by sheer force.

The ring he wore on his middle finger caught her attention, its amber gemstone reflecting the dim light with an unnatural glow.

It was right there, right within her grasp. All she had to do was leave here with the ring in her possession, and she’d be done with the first step.

The thought had occurred to her the night prior, while she lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, that the creatures she was meant to barter her soul with wouldn’t _let_ her take it back. _A contract is a contract,_ they could say, _your soul is mine._

And now, that fear was coming true.

She couldn’t ever formulate a response, even in her head. Even if she raised her pendant, and explained that The Entity sent her, that didn’t mean they had to comply.

Still, it was all she had. She would at least give it a shot.

Raising the pendant, Theo glared at Robertson, her fingers trembling.

“I was sent by The Entity to contest your contract. When my father made his contract with you, he—”

Robertson interrupted her with a guffaw of condescending laughter.

“Aren’t you big for your britches!” he howled, his laughter rivaling the squeals of pigs in the butchery. Pounding his palm against the table, he threw his head back and continued to laugh.

“My _father_ —!”

“Quiet, girlie!” he laughed, leaning forward and grinning at her. “You can’t just come in here and demand my time, just because that old hag thought she could make a fool of _Leopold Robertson_.” Puffing on his cigar, he lounged back, the chair beneath him groaning. “I’m a very busy man, Miss Wilkes. You will regret wasting my precious time.”

Gripping her dress between her balled fists, Theo refused to move from her spot, refused to tear her eyes from the petty maggot of a man that sat before her.

This was her _soul_ they were talking about. She was not _wasting his time._

The sound of a shattering glass broke through the din, breaking her focus. Then another, and _another_ …

With each shattered glass, the room grew a little darker. Standing up, Theo looked over the banister of the second floor. One by one, the wall lights were shattering, glass spraying everywhere, raining upon the mindless patrons below.

“What in blazes—?” Robertson asked, cutting himself off with another violent coughing fit. The room’s temperature dropped within milliseconds, sending a deep shiver through Theo’s spine. Robertson continued to cough, until only dry, choking sounds remained.

Theo watched in horror as his misshapen face began to turn purple, his eyes bulging out of their sunken sockets. The smoke from his cigar turned black, thick plumes of it surrounding him as it fell out of his hands.

The smoke enveloped him, completely unnatural for a _cigar_ , as the buzzing of the nearby lightbulbs grew louder.

“Now, now, darling,” a gentle coo broke through the cacophony. “There is no need to be so rude to your guest.”

The smoke began to clear, the familiar shape of a large hat looming over Robertson, perfectly manicured red talons digging into his jowls, strangling him.

The Entity leaned forward, and from beneath the rim of her hat, Theo could see her venomous smile, exposing a row of razor-sharp, needle-like teeth protruding from her lower maw.

“She speaks the truth. You will oblige to her conditions.”

Robertson could only choke in response, black smoke puffing out of his mouth.

“Do not forget your manners, now, or I shall not hesitate in wiping your pitiful empire from existence. There are _rules_ to follow. Do you understand me, pet?” Even from where Theo stood, she could see The Entity’s nails dig further into Robertson’s skin. “Do as you are told, and, once you finish, be a dear, and spread the word, would you?”

Robertson nodded, his face drenched with sweat as he looked into The Entity’s face, his eyes practically popping out of the sockets as they scanned her features. Theo couldn’t see much from her angle, as The Entity’s hat blocked her face from view, but could only imagine what sort of horror awaited Robertson.

Then again… she had never seen The Entity’s _entire_ face at one time. Part of her felt she was better off not knowing what the woman truly looked like.

The Entity’s grip loosened, and she straightened, turning a single, glowing blue eye to Theo, a polite smile gracing her features.

“Good afternoon, Miss Wilkes.”

_Be polite._

“Good… afternoon…” Theo managed, her tongue thick in her mouth.

“May luck be with you.”

Another light shattered. Theo spun around, realizing the light was only about ten feet behind her, the glass glittering in the dim light of the restaurant. Robertson gasped, deep and desperate, bringing her attention back to him.

The Entity was gone.

Fishing out his stained handkerchief once more, Robertson dabbed his brow. Not that it would do much good, with how much he was sweating. It would be wiser to have a bath towel, in Theo’s opinion.

“Look what you’ve done to me,” he grumbled, shaking his head so violently that his jowls flapped about. “Getting _her_ involved.”

“I _did_ tell you that she sent me, for what it’s worth.”

“None of your lip. Now, sit down, and we’ll discuss your… _contest,”_ he sneered, the word falling off of his tongue like a slimy piece of meat.

Cursing under his breath, he opened up his cigar box and took out another, lighting it up without picking up his last cigar. Granted, Theo was doubtful that he _could_ pick it up, even if he wanted to, which he obviously didn’t.

“Collins!” he boomed, coughing again. “Bring Miss Wilkes her _special_.”

“Right away, sir,” Collins panted, and began his slow, precarious, hobbling descent down the stairs.

“Miss Wilkes,” Robertson pointed his cigar at the chair opposite him, “take a seat.”

She did.

Leaning all of his weight forward, Robertson reached his grubby arm across the table, and pushed all of the plates off with a single, sweeping motion, sending them crashing to the ground. The plates shattered, wracking Theo’s eardrums. With a snort, he reached across again, and did the same to the other side, completely clearing off the table.

Underneath it, she saw numbers in red and black boxes. She had never been much of a gambler, but her questions were answered when he reached to his left, and brought a portable roulette wheel to the table.

Wheezing, he grinned at her, pieces of food sticking out from between his discolored teeth.

“There are rules to contesting your contract,” he spat, looking rather pleased with himself, despite having been humiliated just minutes prior. “You can’t just come in here and raise a stink and expect to get off scot-free.”

“We have to play a game, right?”

“Smart girl.” Clearing his throat— a loud, wet noise that left _little_ to the imagination— he spat to the side, a few trailing strands of saliva following it.

Theo remembered Carlisle’s warning that she mustn’t eat anything in this place, but, if she was being honest, that would be the easiest part. Merely being in the presence of this animal was enough to kill her appetite for _weeks._

“Your father and I played a favorite of mine: roulette. Do you know the rules, Miss Wilkes?” he asked, not bothering to mask the hatred he held for her from his voice.

“Somewhat.”

It was a game of chance, she knew that much.

Theo knew that The Entity had said that she must retrieve the rings from each of the creditors _fairly_ , but were they being held to the same rules? What was to stop someone as repulsive as Robertson from cheating, and shifting the odds back in his favor?

“I’m a busy man, Miss Wilkes,” he repeated, puffing on his cigar. “In the interest of time, let us keep it short and simple. One round, with five bets. Whichever one of us wins the most chips is the victor.” Drumming his fat fingers against the table, he eyed her, his eyes glowing. “That sound _fair_ to you?”

Probably as fair as it was going to get, at any rate.

“Yeah. Fair enough.”

Before they could continue, a dull whirring caught her attention. Glancing towards the wall— where another mountain of dishes was precariously perched— she heard a single _ding._

“Ah, it’s here,” Robertson snorted. “Go open up that dumbwaiter, and fetch the meal inside, would you?”

As much as she wanted to tell him to get it himself, she knew that it would be ultimately pointless. Not only that, but it would just be _faster_ to do it herself. Shooting him a glare, she got up, and began to delicately move stacks of dishes away from the approximate location of the dumbwaiter.

Finally gaining visual on the doors of the dumbwaiter, she leaned forward, reaching past even _more_ mountains of dirty plates to reach the doors. Scooting as close to the dishes as she could, the smell of rotting food filling her nostrils, she leaned forward, and pried the doors apart with all of her strength.

In the dumbwaiter was a single plate on a tray. It was a sight that wouldn’t usually stop someone dead in their tracks, but Theo could feel all of the blood leave her face in a single wave.

“Go ahead and bring that here, Miss Wilkes. It’s for _you_ , after all.”

She didn’t want to touch it. Part of her felt that, by even touching the tray, she had already lost a bit of the battle.

And yet, she picked it up, her hands numb and working without her awareness.

Staggering back to the table, the silverware rattling about the tray with every step she took, she forced her eyes away from the plate before her. The smell enticed her, capturing all of her senses, engulfing her in a sickly-sweet, smothering embrace.

It had been so long.

How had she forgotten, until now?

Reaching her seat, she was able to put the tray down, and sink into the chair. Her iron will had just been blown away by a cannon blast, and Robertson knew it.

This was, after all, her “special”.

It was a dish that her mother used to make, back when Theo had been a little girl. When her mother died— Theo had been only eight years old— she had lost all opportunities to eat this dish.

Only her mother could ever do it justice.

“Here we are! My little lily’s favorite dish, fresh and piping hot, for her birthday!” her mother had said, sliding the plate of mapo tofu in front of Theo’s nose. It was the last time she had ever had it… at least, in its authentic form.

Try as she might have, Theo could never replicate the dish. It always tasted wrong. It wasn’t her mother’s. The smell was different, the texture was off, the flavors didn’t blend the way they used to.

It was never right.

The plate before her, however… was everything she remembered. She could practically feel her mother’s arms wrapping around her, planting kisses to the top of her head, singing Sichuanese lullabies to her as they rocked back and forth, smiling and laughing.

Her father would burst in, wearing a silly hat, belting the lullaby at the top of his lungs as if he was performing a show, and Theo would laugh and laugh at the spectacle.

“Most people want a taste of home,” Robertson commented, almost sounding half-sympathetic, breaking her out of her memories. “Especially when that home has been lost.”

It was a twist of the knife. Her home had been shattered, obliterated by a falling stage light.

“Go ahead, Miss Wilkes. No need to be polite.”

The smell of the Sichuan chili bean paste wafted up from the plate, little wisps of steam dancing off of the beautifully prepared meal. It only made her more aware of the vast emptiness in her stomach.

When had she become so hungry?

She could hear her mother’s singing, her father’s laughter. It was as if they were right there, with her. She could practically sense them standing behind her, their hands on her shoulders, leaning forward, but staying out of sight.

“Go ahead, Theo,” her father said, in his usual lilt. “Take a bite! Don’t be shy!”

“Yes, my flower,” her mother cooed, her voice so far away, and yet, right inside of her ears, inside of her head. “Don’t let it go to waste! Eat up!”

“When you’re done, you can have seconds!”

“Or thirds!”

“You can have as much as you want.”

“Eat up, Theo.”

“Eat up.”

_“Eat up.”_

_“Eat up!”_

_“EAT UP!”_

_“DO IT FOR US, THEO.”_

_“_ **_DO IT FOR YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER, THEODORA.”_ **

**_“YOU KNOW W E L O V E Y O U V E R Y M U C H . ”_ **

**_“DON’T YOU LOVE US, THEO?”_ **

**_“DON’T YOU M I S S US?”_ **

“Yes…” she whispered, tears flooding her vision. “I miss you… so much…”

 ** _“THEN EAT UP, THEO,”_** her parents’ voices boomed in unison, rattling inside of her head. **_“EAT TO YOUR HEART’S CONTENT.”_**

Reaching out, she picked up the chopsticks. They were just like the ones her mother had, the ones she saved for special occasions. The ones she always brought out for Theo’s birthday every year.

Her father would always flatter her mother when he wanted to steal her food. He would plant a kiss on her cheek, wait for her to blush, and eat the food out of her chopsticks while she was flustered. She would let him pull this trick, again and again, always smiling and feigning surprise.

Her mother would sing in her local dialect when she cooked. She wasn’t an accomplished singer, but it was something she loved to do. She would dance when she thought no one was looking. She was a free spirit, through and through, loving and supporting her family even though they were so far from where they began.

Theo had caught her parents slow dancing in the kitchen on a few occasions, looking at each other with so much love, they could be mistaken as newlyweds. As she watched them dance, her heart fluttered with the dream that, someday, that could be her. Someday, she would dance with the love of _her_ life, smiling up at them like they were the moon and the stars in the sky.

_Someday..._

“Theodora…” Robertson mused, “That is quite a name.” Lighting up another cigar, he watched her with unyielding, glowing eyes. “Then again, so was Theophilus. Not what I was expecting. No… not what I was expecting at all.”

She didn’t want to share her father’s reasoning behind his Western name with _Robertson_ , of all people.

Theophilus moved to the States with the intention of becoming a Broadway star. He loved singing, acting, dancing… that’s where he found his true joy. However, he knew that he needed a name that would bring attention to him, a name that lingered in the back of the mind.

Giving up the name he was given, in lieu of the ever-extraordinary _Theophilus Wilkes_ , he eventually achieved what he set out to do. After all, how many people had been named Theophilus? How many actors?

It was a question he kept in mind when young Theodora was born. Although her mother had a certain distaste for such a name— she was hoping to name her daughter something a _little_ more traditional— Theophilus just wouldn’t allow it.

“She’s meant to be a star, just like her papa!” he would say, ruffling her hair. It was something he told her often, and he fully believed it.

With a sad smile, Theo lowered her gaze, the memory bittersweet.

Raising the tofu to her lips, she opened her mouth, salivating in anticipation of the burst of flavor, the heat, the spices…

_“Please do not eat anything he has to offer you.”_

Theo paused, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.

_“Eat up, Theo. It’s okay.”_

But it wasn’t.

 **“GO AHEAD, MISS WILKES,”** Robertson— or maybe her parents— said. Whoever was speaking, their voice was garbled, overlaid with others speaking in unison. She could feel the memories fading from the forefront of her mind, the haze that had overtaken her clearing, if only slightly.

Her heart hammered in her chest, sending a deep, shuddering tremble through her entire body. With every five beats of her heart, a deep energy pulsated through her, clearing her head, banishing the memories away.

Snapping her head back, she recoiled, slamming her hand onto the table, the tofu and chopsticks flying across the roulette board. She clapped a hand over her mouth, her breath escaping her in short gasps.

She had almost taken a bite. She would’ve lost, right at the beginning.

Looking down at the plate of food before her, she watched as it began to change before her very eyes, becoming discolored and disfigured. It rotted before her, maggots and worms crawling out of the sauce and feasting on what she left behind.

A desperate cry ripped itself from her throat as she grabbed the plate, and threw it, sending it and all of its rotting food to the floor. The decayed, dried clumps of tofu rolled across the floor, the maggots flying in every which direction. With a disgusted shudder, she lifted her legs, just in time to see a worm land where her foot had been.

She was still _starving_ , hunger pangs becoming so bad that she wanted to double over, but she _refused_.

“It’s not polite to waste food that your host offers you, Miss Wilkes,” Robertson growled, his face turning purple, a vein popping out of his forehead. His hands were shaking, clenching and unclenching into fists. It struck her as rather hypocritical to say that _she_ had wasted food— which had rotted, anyway— when he had just done the same earlier.

She was smarter than to comment on it.

“Let’s get on with the game,” she growled.

Theo didn’t move; she only glared at Robertson, her hands trembling in her lap. Even when an ungodly cacophony of clattering broke out from the first floor, she didn’t take her eyes off of him.

“If I win, I want you to break the contract, and I want that ring that you wear,” she bargained. “If you win… I’ll fulfill the contract.”

He leaned forward, baring his cavity-filled teeth at her.

“You won’t get away with this,” he spat. “I’ll see you hung by the neck before you walk out of here with this ring.”

The clattering downstairs grew louder, and louder, silverware crashing and china shattering against the tile floor. The patrons began to yell, their voices raising in volume and pitch. Theo couldn’t tell if there were people on the first floor, or swine facing slaughter.

A pained, sharp cry from downstairs finally broke her attention away from Robertson. Glancing towards the balcony, she considered looking over the edge, but ultimately decided against it. Theo could hear the distinctive sound of meat ripping apart from the bones and joints, flesh tearing.

It was so loud, she could only guess as to what made the horrific sound. The first thought that came to mind was a suckling pig. Although, the longer she listened, the less convinced she was.

“That’s _mine!!_ ” someone shouted, guttural and animalistic.

“No, it’s _mine!_ I want the leg!”

Her stomach churned at the patrons’ voices, goosebumps dotting her arms and legs. The screams continued, tables overturned, plates shattered, creating a bedlam that was unrivaled by anything she had ever experienced.

“Those are my conditions!” she shouted over the din, struggling to keep her voice even.

Robertson glared at her, his eyes darting over her face, ignoring the chaos from below. Finally, he picked up a handful of chips, and tossed them her way. They clattered against the table, and rolled every which way, but she quickly collected them, regardless. He was sweating again, making no move to clear it from his brow.

“Place your bets, then,” he snorted. A piercing cry broke through the din, tearing Theo’s eyes away from him once more. “Don’t bother with them!” he shouted, his voice worming its way into her head, her eyes returning to him, and the table that stretched between them. “They’re having their own _specials_ right now. _Place your bets._ ”

With trembling fingers, she stood, picked up a single chip, and leaned forward, scanning the table.

It was all chance— how was she supposed to strategize when it was _entirely_ up to chance? There wasn’t any rhyme or reason to it.

Circling the grooves of the chip with her thumb, she continued to scan the table, barely containing her panic. If she screwed up, then that was it. An eternity of servitude to _this_ creature. The animalistic roars continued to echo around her, threatening to break her focus.

Closing her eyes for just a moment, she took a breath, and placed two chips on 28 and 31 black, right in the center of the table. Glancing around, she placed another chip on the red 7.

“I’d like a street bet. 7, 8, and 9.”

It was the only bet she clearly remembered.

“Very well.”

Only two chips left. Lunging forward, she slammed one chip on 20 black, and the other on 36 red. Robertson didn’t say anything at first. His eyes flicked up towards her face before quickly returning to the table. He placed his five chips in a pattern, seeming to already know exactly where they were meant to go.

Two split bets: one between 13 black and 14 red, and the other between 14 red and 15 black.

A bet on 19 red.

A bet on 21 red.

And, finally, a bet on 26 black, fully surrounding the chip she placed on 20 black.

“The numbers on the wheel are rather symbolic to me,” he grumbled, leaning back, and folding his hands atop his stomach. With a sickening smile, he eyed her. “The sum of their parts, anyway.”

Picking up the ball between his fingers— it almost disappeared under the warts on his fingertips— he placed it in the wheel, and let it spin.

Neither one of them spoke, but it was hardly silent. Downstairs, the screams and squeals continued, sounding much more mournful than before. Theo could hear the patrons’ chewing, mouths gaping, overstuffed with rancid meats.

Between the loud chewing, she thought she heard a few quiet, muffled sobs.

The ball scraped against the wood; such a distinct, unpleasant sound, although she could hardly hear it over the pounding of her heart in her ears. Her hand closed around the pendant that was given to her, squeezing it so tight that its grooves threatened to imprint on her palm. The energy within the pendant pulsated under her touch, centering her, reminding her of why she was there.

Around and around the ball went.

It began to slow, Robertson’s eyes burning into her. What was once the sound of the ball rolling across wood was slowly beginning to morph, and distort, the sound twisting into something unfamiliar, and yet…

She could place exactly what it was.

Screams. Death rattles. Agonized cries for help, so distorted that the words were lost to the din.

Looking up, she met Robertson’s venomous gaze. He grinned at her, or perhaps bared his teeth, much sharper than she recalled.

The ball fell into a slot, at long last.

“Well, Miss Wilkes,” he chuckled. Without checking the placement of the ball, he leaned forward, and palmed the chips closest to him. “It was a real laugh to play this game with you, but I am afraid you have lost.”

“What—?” she choked, her heart leaping into her throat. Flinging herself forward, she checked the wheel, her eyes flashing back to the board on the table.

The hammering of her heart eased, only slightly, a relieved smile blooming across her features.

“No. You’re wrong.” Robertson froze in place, a single droplet of sweat trailing down his cheek. It could have been mistaken for a tear, were he capable of such emotion. With a triumphant grin, Theo pointed at the wheel. “See for yourself.”

It was _his_ turn to scramble for the wheel, gripping either side of it as if he were drowning, and it were his life preserver.

“No…” he wheezed, looking at the board.

Right there, in the middle of the pattern _he_ had made, was _her_ winning chip. 20 black.

“No!” he roared, shaking the wheel. “That’s not _possible!_ ”

“It’s possible, alright,” she grinned, smoothing out her dress. “Unless you were expecting something else?” He didn’t say anything. Grinding his teeth together so hard that she could hear it, even from where she was standing, he glared at her. Holding out her hand, the smile fell from her lips. “Your ring, and my contract.”

With a growl, his hand balled up into a fist, and he pounded the table, only once. Ripping the ring from his finger, he slammed it on the table.

“There!”

“Thank you.” Theo slipped the ring into her bag, trying, and failing, to ignore how sweaty it was. “And my contract?”

Robertson heaved a sigh, followed by a short cough. From behind her, one of the bowls that had been precariously stacked in front of the dumbwaiter fell, and shattered, calling her attention to it, for just a moment. When she looked back at Robertson, he was holding the contract— similar to the one The Entity had shown her— and ripped it in two.

It seemed to physically pain him to do so.

“There. Are you _satisfied_ , Miss Wilkes?”

“Yeah.”

“Then get out. I have no further business with you.”

She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, argue with him. Theo wanted to get out of there sooner rather than later, too. The smells were starting to give her a headache.

Turning on her heel, she descended the stairs.

_DON’T LOOK._

She couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips.

_DON’T LOOK._

She had won! That was something to be proud of.

_DON’T LOOK._

Reaching the first floor, she lifted her eyes, scanning the dim room—

**_DON’T LOOK._ **

— and stopped dead in her tracks.

**_DON’T LOOK!_ **

Bile rose to her throat, and she immediately clapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from vomiting.

**_DON’T LOOK, MISS WILKES._ **

In the center of the room was one of the patrons, their body motionless. A pack of the other patrons, on all fours, surrounded the body, _feasting._ They ripped into the flesh, their mouths working mindlessly.

Looking past them, Theo could see a few more bodies, brutalized, but otherwise untouched.

 _Not for long_ , a voice seemed to whisper to her, although she couldn’t place it.

The patrons noticed her, stopping their eating for just long enough to look up at her with glazed over, frosty eyes. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Fresh meat,” one of the patrons growled, her voice guttural, completely void of all humanity. Her mouth was stained with the blood of her fellow victim of circumstance. Theo wasn’t sure if it was torn flesh or entrails hanging from her bottom teeth, but she knew she didn’t want to find out.

The patron began to crawl towards Theo, catching the attention of the others. One by one, they all began to crawl towards her on all fours.

Theo had already won her soul back, she wasn’t about to lose her life to these creatures before her. Clutching her bag, she broke into a sprint, heading straight for the lobby.

Rats scurried past her feet, threatening to trip her up. The patrons scuttled closer, fighting one another as they charged their next meal.

Reaching the lobby, she quickly skid to a halt. Collins, the maître d’ from earlier, stood between her and the exit, stretching his arms out wide, so as to try and stop her. Behind her, the patrons’ growls grew louder, and closer.

“You won’t get out of here!” he boomed. Unfortunately for him, she was so focused on _surviving_ that his intimidation tactics had little effect.

Scanning the room, she spotted a stool behind the desk. Picking it up, she rushed him, rearing back, and swinging the stool. The impact of wood against his skull reverberated through her whole body, ruining her momentum, for just a moment.

He was still standing.

“Damn!” she hissed, scrambling backwards. A window to her left caught her eye, and, giving him a triumphant grin, she ran for the window, throwing the stool as hard as she could throw the glass.

It shattered— although, for a moment, she wasn’t sure it _would_.

“No!” he roared, stumbling towards her.

It didn’t matter, though. She was faster than him.

Jumping over the windowsill, she landed in the alley outside of the restaurant. A couple of confused businessmen watched as Theo sprinted for the front street, their cigarettes falling from their gaping mouths.

“Get back here!”

Theo didn’t listen. She ran, completely exhilarated, on the verge of the giggles. The farther she got, the more her hunger faded, becoming nothing more than a memory.

“I did it!” she cheered, throwing her fists into the air, and jumping for joy. This, of course, did nothing to ease the confusion of the two businessmen that had seen her escape from the restaurant. They silently watched as she continued to run away, fading from view.

They would never know what happened inside of that restaurant.

“Carlisle!” Theo called, waving to him. His face lit up, a beautiful, relieved smile blessing his already-blessed features.

“Miss Wilkes! You are safe!” he beamed, setting down her luggage.

She couldn’t help it. As soon as she was close enough, she threw her arms around him in a tight hug, the adrenaline and exhilaration fueling her.

“I did it, Carlisle!” she laughed, breathless, feeling as light as air. Looking up into his face, she beamed. “I wasn’t sure I was going to make it for a second, but I _did_!”

“I knew you could do it, Miss Wilkes!” he smiled, cupping her cheek. “Congratulations!”

The blood drained from her face as the reality of the situation set in.

“I did it…” she repeated, her voice barely a mumble as her gaze fell to her feet. She had been reminded of the family she had lost, she had almost given all of it up, just for the sake of tasting her mother’s cooking again, for the first time since her childhood.

Hugging herself, she swallowed the lump forming in her throat. To think that this was the first of _seven_ … it would only get worse from here, wouldn’t it? What would happen with the others? How would she be tested?

How could she _possibly_ face all of them alone?

“Miss Wilkes?” Leaning down to her level, Carlisle peered into her face, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, and giving her a soft smile. “It must have been rather frightening… I am sorry that you had to endure it alone.”

The effect he had on her was amazing. Just with one simple gesture, she forgot about all of her worries, all of the strife she had just gone through. Her heart was at ease.

“No… I’m fine. Just a little shaken up.”

Still, if he was going to be the one to greet her after each and every trial, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. His smile, alone, made it all worth it.

To think that they met because of such terrifying circumstances. It really _was_ like a fairy tale.

“I have our train tickets, Miss Wilkes… although…” he trailed off, his smile faltering into an embarrassed variant of itself. “I must admit, that is not nearly as impressive as what you have just achieved.” With a nervous titter, he moved away, wringing his hands together. “You are truly incredible, Miss Wilkes, going against a man such as that all on your own. Much better than I.”

“Carlisle…”

“Well!” he shrieked, clapping his hands together. Picking up her luggage, he tittered again. “No need to dilly-dally! Let us embark on the next leg of our journey!” Spinning around, he immediately buried his head in his free hand, as if she wasn’t standing right there, and could see everything he was doing. As he began to walk, she matched his pace, carefully looping her arm through his.

His eyes widened as he looked down at her, but he seemed to relax after a moment. Giving him an encouraging smile, Theo patted his forearm.

“ _I_ think you’re amazing, Carlisle.”

His lips twitched into a flustered smile. Tittering again, he turned his head away, although Theo could still see the corners of his smile.

“Oh… you are too kind, Miss Wilkes.”

“Carlisle, you can just call me ‘Theo’, it’s fine.”

“... I could never! As your Guide, it would be improper.” Finally, he looked her way again. “The only time a Guide has ever referred to their client by their given name has been when they are in lov—” With a bark of laughter that could only be described as _incredibly nervous_ , he looked away again. “I could _never!_ ”

“Alright, alright. I won’t keep pushing you, then.”

They continued their walk in silence, although Theo’s head was swimming with the thought of what he could have said. Her heart pounded, and her cheeks grew warmer with the very possibility.

_Only when they’re in love…_

He was like a knight from a fairy tale, or maybe a prince in disguise, sent to look after her. She knew she was hardly princess material— after all, she had been perfectly willing to brain Collins with a stool earlier— but still, her mind wandered.

She couldn’t help but wonder what her name would sound like when leaving _his_ lips.


	3. Isaac Walker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to (instagram) @Shioneaa for accepting my commission for art of Theo and Carlisle! You can find the post on their profile, or in the link from my tumblr post!
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr (LongHairedAntagonists) and twitter (@soowonheika)!
> 
> The song for this chapter: "Awake O Sleeper"

As the train lurched into motion, Theo bounced her leg, albeit unwittingly. With glazed over eyes, she watched as the station faded from view.

“Miss Wilkes?” Carlisle cooed, bringing her back into reality. Blinking, she turned back to him. “Are you feeling unwell? You look a bit pale.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” she lied, forcing a reassuring smile.

In actuality, her stomach was churning, and it wasn’t because of the train. She couldn’t stop thinking about Robertson, and what had taken place in his restaurant.

Even though it had only been for a split second, she had almost lost herself.

What was worse, Robertson seemed to know much more about her than she had been prepared for. What would happen with the rest of them?

He was only the first of seven. While she  _ could _ lie to herself, and say that he was the most difficult to deal with, she had the sinking feeling that it just wasn’t true.

She couldn’t even  _ lie _ to herself anymore.

The patrons’ faces— sagging, sallow, void of life and joy and purpose— haunted her. Is that what would happen to her if she lost? Would she also become nothing more than a mindless cog in a well-oiled machine?

Resting her head in her hand, she gazed out of the window as the train traveled through the city. It wasn’t the best scenery, but it was home.

“Miss Wilkes?”

“Yes, Carlisle?” she asked without looking away from the window. After a few agonizing moments of hesitating silence, he leaned forward and placed his hand atop hers. This gesture was enough to finally tear her eyes away from the ever-so-fascinating cityscape passing by, landing on Carlisle’s luxuriously handsome features.

Really. The man could stop traffic.

“Miss Wilkes, if you would permit me…” he started, his voice trembling. “I would like to help you. You need not face your worries alone.”

The words resonated within her. Even the night prior, one of the first things he had told her was that she was no longer alone. It struck her that he really took his job rather seriously, despite his claims that he was so new at it.

“Please?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Despite herself, and her worries, she smiled, a sense of ease washing over her. In the present circumstances, she would need all the support she could get. Carlisle, for all of his fumbling around, was dedicated to helping her.

“Oh, alright,” she half-sighed, as if it would be of some big imposition to take the help of another person. In reality, of course, it wasn’t. She was just stubborn. “I was just thinking about… what happened earlier, and what I can do to prepare for the next one.”

Carlisle changed seats, so that he may sit next to her, keeping his hand atop hers the entire time. It was a rather extraordinary feat of graceful consideration.

Theo found her train of thought momentarily derailed, suddenly aware of how close he was to her.

“And— well… I, um—” she fumbled, before metaphorically pulling on her big-girl britches, and getting over it. Carlisle may have been the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes upon, but that didn’t give her the right to act like a shy schoolgirl around him. Clearing her throat (a little too loudly), she continued, “I don’t want to be caught off-guard again. I want to be able to face the next creditor with no hesitation. Get in, get the ring, and get out. No funny business.”

Gently lifting her hand, Carlisle enveloped it with his own, bringing to rest atop his knee. The gesture, no matter how simple, seemed to center her, her worries easing, if only slightly.

“I just…” she started, lowering her gaze to their hands. “I just feel like I’m in over my head. How will I be able to face six more of these creditors on my own?”

“Miss Wilkes, with all due respect,” he started, squeezing her hand slightly, as if to remind her that he was there. “The Entity would not have offered this deal to you if she did not believe, at least to some degree, that you were fully capable of succeeding. Before you even began, you had earned her respect. That is no small feat.”

His words weighed heavily on her heart. Rather than easing her worries, they almost exemplified them. The weight of the world was resting on her shoulders—  _ her _ , an actress from Manhattan. Her biggest concerns should have been learning new lyrics, or new choreography, not fighting for her soul against  _ seven _ “creditors”.

Carlisle tilted her chin up, bringing her gaze to his, giving her a gentle smile. That gesture, alone, broke her out of her thoughts.

“Already, you have done what even the  _ Divine  _ can be incapable of. I daresay she has far more respect for you than she holds for me.”

This caught her attention, her stomach dropping at the implication. Robertson knew The Entity— he seemed to know her  _ personally _ .

So what was Carlisle, then, if he knew her, too?

“You know The Entity?” she asked, afraid to know the answer. However, his blank gaze offset some of her anxiety.

Certainly not the look of a villain.

“Why, of course. All Divine beings know, or at least know  _ of _ , The Entity, just as she knows all of us,” he explained, a frown pulling at his lips. “I would expand upon her role more, were it not for Divine Confidentiality Laws. I am afraid I would endanger both of us, were I to share such information with you.”

Another case of  _ she’s better off not knowing. _

“I  _ can _ tell you, however, that The Entity does not only share business contracts with these creditors of yours. We Divine Guides are also under her jurisdiction.”

Well, with what little detail she  _ was _ given, she felt a little more at ease in the presence of her Divine Guide. At least she could rest easily, knowing he wasn’t part of the other team.

Besides, he was actively acting  _ against _ the creditors. That, in and of itself, was proof that he was on her side. If one creditor won, then they all did, in a way.

“Oh, phew! That’s a load off  _ my _ shoulders, that’s for sure,” she laughed, light, bordering on giddy. “For a second, I thought—” Clamping her mouth shut, she ultimately decided not to voice her thoughts. “Well, I’m sure glad  _ you’re _ on my side, Carlisle.”

“I would have it no other way, Miss Wilkes,” he beamed, practically radiating divine light.

“Yeah, me neither,” she admitted, a rosy warmth creeping into her cheeks.

Carlisle continued to gaze at her, his striking blue eyes practically holding her in place. Slightly, just  _ ever _ so slightly, almost imperceptibly, she began to lean forward, their faces growing closer and closer with each passing nanosecond.

He had quite the spell on her, if he could make her feel so at ease. And yet, she knew, deep down, that it wasn’t a spell at all.

He really was like a prince. While she was no princess, and  _ certainly _ no damsel, perhaps their narrative wouldn’t end with them just parting ways, never to see each other again.

Although she was only barely aware of it, she hoped that would be the case.

It wasn’t until she felt his breath on her lips that she caught herself, halting with a violent jolt. They were only mere  _ centimeters _ apart.

Practically throwing herself against the window, she covered her face, shame washing over her. Not at the gesture, per se, but rather at how  _ bold _ she had been about it. She barely knew the man! He wasn’t even  _ human! _ What was she  _ thinking?! _

“I’m sorry!” she cried, huddling into herself like a sad, sad little hermit crab. Pulling her knees to her chest, she turned her back to Carlisle, hiding her face by burying it into her knees.

“Miss Wilkes—?”

“Don’t mind me!” With a forced chuckle, she waved at him, signalling for him to continue. “How about— uh— you tell me about the next creditors? Yeah! That’s a good plan! Do that!”

“Ah… ehm, very well…” he stammered, but ultimately left her alone. “Let me see, here…” Peeking at him from her metaphorical shell, she watched as he dug the note out of his waistcoat pocket, and began to read it. “The next creditor is a Mister Isaac Walker, an innkeeper near Albany.”

_ An innkeeper? _ Theo thought, her brows furrowing. If Robertson was a restauranteur, and she wasn’t allowed to eat… then what would she have to do at this inn? Not sign her name?

… Well, that went without saying.

“As I recall from reports, he is a rather surly character. Not the sort of individual that should be in the company of a lady, that is quite certain,” he frowned, tucking the note back into his waistcoat.

Well, neither was Robertson. Theo would honestly be surprised if  _ any _ of them were suitable for a lady’s company.

“What about the rest of them? Are all of them as bad as Robertson?” she asked, slowly but surely emerging from her self-made shell. Lowering her feet back to the floor— as opposed to the seat— she turned to him.

Carlisle thought for a moment, digging the note back out of his pocket.

“It is difficult to say that one is worse than the other. However, I will do my best to assist you,” he explained, scanning the note’s contents. “Most of this is hearsay, from other Divine Guides, so please mind that I am only repeating office gossip to you, Miss Wilkes.”

Theo shrugged in response.

“They have changed their names recently— just at the beginning of the decade— so some of this information could have gotten mixed up, I must admit. However… after Mister Walker, we will travel to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, in order to meet Mister Ignatius Dods. Another surly character, however, not as prone to violence as Mister Walker may be.”

_ Prone to violence _ wasn’t exactly what Theo was hoping for.

“The biggest threat from Mister Dods is to your ego, Miss Wilkes. Other than that, you should be able to leave mostly unscathed.”

… Mostly. An interesting keyword.

“After Mister Dods, we shall travel to Columbus, Ohio, to a Mister Phineas Harrington. A very powerful man. He has the biggest influence out of everyone. From what I recall, recent numbers put his employees into the thousands. Although powerful, he is not necessarily ill-mannered.”

As much as she didn’t want to hear these details, she knew her chances of survival would be better if she had this knowledge.

“And then, from there…” he trailed off, reading the note. Almost instantly, his features warped into a frown, poisoned with disdain. It was an expression that she would’ve never imagined him capable of, otherwise.

“What’s wrong, Carlisle? Who’s after that?” she asked gently, leaning forward to peer into his face. His reaction had her more concerned than anything— like he hated the next person on the list.

Were Divine Guides capable of hate?

“... Forgive me, Miss Wilkes. I have had some rather… personal altercations with this next individual.” Carlisle attempted to smile— probably reassuringly, from the way his face twitched— but ultimately failed. With far too sour a voice, he continued, “Mister Athelstan Vabsley. Chicago, Illinois.”

Although every alarm in her head was screaming at her to drop the conversation, to move on, to ask no more questions, she didn’t listen.

“What’s he like?”

Carlisle hesitated, never once looking at her.

“... Under any other circumstances, Miss Wilkes, I would pray that you never have to meet this individual. He is, in my opinion, one of the most dangerous of the creditors, if only because his vice is so very difficult to escape.”

_ That’s right, _ she thought. The Entity  _ had  _ mentioned that each of the creditors were in charge of “some vice or another”.

Then what was Vabsley in charge of, if he was so hard to evade?

“Forgive me, Miss Wilkes. I should not frighten you so.” Finally, the frown dissipated, leaving only an apologetic smile in its wake.

“It’s okay,” she lied, her heart sinking in her chest. “So that’s…” Counting on her fingers— Robertson, Walker, Dods, Harrington, and Vabsley— she continued, “That’s five. What about the other two?”

“The final two are a little harder to track, I am afraid. They do not run businesses, as the others do. They are drifters.”

“Oh,” she grimaced, sounding like a disappointed duck.

“Those two have also been steadily gaining more influence over the past decade. Although they both have a powerful grip on the population, they rarely work well together,” Carlisle explained, seeming faraway. “They are bitter enemies.”

Gazing at his profile, Theo couldn’t help but think that Carlisle seemed to have a bigger stake in this plan than he had previously let on. There was a line between “office gossip” and personal experience, and he had crossed it as soon as he mentioned Vabsley.

Still, she hadn’t even known him for a full day yet. It didn’t seem right to go prying into his personal business. If they were going to go all the way to Chicago, then they would have time to talk about it later.

She  _ had _ packed in anticipation for a three week trip, after all.

“Who are they?” she asked, her curiosity getting the best of her. She had names for the others, it was only fair to finish out the set.

“Mister Darius Cain is one. He is particularly difficult to track down— I do not believe he has stayed anywhere longer than a few days in the past decade.”

“We’ll find him, right?” Her voice had more of an edge to it than she had anticipated. However, the thought of leaving the theatre any longer than she already had to was less than ideal. What if it took  _ months _ to find him? What would she do then? “We  _ have _ to.”

“We will find him, Miss Wilkes. I assure you.” Taking her hand in his, he gave her a gentle smile, calming her almost instantaneously. “I have asked for assistance from my colleagues. They will be informing me of his whereabouts as often as they can.”

“Good.” Theo heaved a great sigh of relief, her shoulders slumping forward. “And? The last one? They’ll be easier to find than Cain, right?”

“Oh, yes, I would think so.” Patting her hand— something that was usually rather condescending, but, somehow, didn’t seem so in that moment— he beamed at her. “While he also moves around quite a bit, he is… far easier to track down.”

“And? What’s his name?”

“Mister Claudius Devereux.”

“ _ Seriously _ ?” she asked, recoiling from him with a scornful laugh.

“Whatever is wrong, Miss Wilkes?” Carlisle asked, clueless as ever.

“‘Claudius Devereux’? That’s the most pretentious name I’ve ever heard! And I’m from the Vaudeville scene,  _ off Broadway. _ ” Rolling her eyes, she laughed again, just as derisively as the first time. “Give me a break.”

“Is… something wrong with his name… Miss Wilkes?” he fumbled, an odd smile on his face. “It does not seem so pretentious to me.”

“Really?” she scoffed. “If a man introduced himself to me as  _ Claudius Devereux, _ I think I would laugh in his face. It sounds fake, it sounds pretentious, and it sounds like something a dastardly villain in a poorly written Penny Dreadful would call himself.”

“... Ah. Perhaps this is a bit nuanced for me…?” he trailed off, forcing a titter.

“Nah, it’s not you. I’m probably just looking for any weakness in the enemy fortress. A silly name makes it that much easier.” With another guffaw, she covered her mouth, muttering, “Claudius  _ Devereux _ ,” to herself once more.

“How relieved I am to see you smile again, Miss Wilkes,” he beamed, although it was quick to fade. “However, if you will forgive me, I must check on a detail of our tickets with the conductor. Please, pardon me for a few minutes.”

“Oh, okay! See you in a few!”

He smiled at her, soft as sunlight in spring, and disentangled their hands from one another. With that, he took his leave, closing the door to their compartment silently behind him.

Theo continued to snicker to herself about the Vaudevillian nature of the name  _ Claudius Devereux _ for quite some time after that.

Several hours of passing beautiful scenery later, Theo and Carlisle arrived at the train station in Albany. Theo had never ventured farther than city limits before—as she had had no reason to before this divine quest she had been assigned to— and had spent most of the trip gazing out the window, awestruck by the views.

“Wow!!” she had gasped as they passed rather mundane, rural sights. “Carlisle! Look at how beautiful it is!” He stood at her side, making the silly mistake to look at  _ her _ instead of at the scenery she was pointing out.

“Yes, it is rather beautiful,” he remarked, sounding just as awestruck as Theo did, although much quieter.

Although her cheeks grew rosy, she smacked him on the arm— lightly, of course.

“Not me, you jokester!” she deflected, laughing nervously. “The, uh— the… nature.”

“Oh, forgive me, Miss Wilkes,” he tittered, looking out of the window. “I simply thought you also looked quite radiant, and took the liberty to comment on it.” This, of course, didn’t help the blush building in Theo’s face, which was spreading to her ears at this point. “Please, forgive me. I am still quite inexperienced in human communications.”

“Yeah… nothin’ to worry about,” she muttered, turning her head away in hopes of hiding her blush from him.

“Hmm? Miss Wilkes? Is something wrong?”

“No— nothing at all!” she squeaked, turning farther away from him. Carlisle, seemingly dissatisfied with this answer, leaned in closer, attempting to peer into her face.

“You are not feeling unwell again, are you?”

“No!! I’m not!!”

“But— why, Miss Wilkes! Your face is entirely red!” he gasped. “You do not have a fever, do you?”

“NO— I’M  _ FINE,” _ she insisted, her voice somewhere between a shriek and a growl. “JUST  _ RIGHT  _ AS  _ RAIN _ !”

The two of them continued in this back-and-forth for at least ten minutes, with Theo only growing more and more distressed the longer it went on. Carlisle was completely clueless, and while it was usually endearing, she couldn’t stand his  _ blatant flattery _ .

Anyone else, and she’d accept it. For some reason, though, when it came from  _ him _ , it really set the butterflies in her stomach loose.

Now, they were in Albany, making their way towards the bed and breakfast where they would be staying. Obviously, it was not the same establishment as Walker’s Inn, and Theo couldn’t be more thankful.

There was something about the town that was setting her on edge. The air seemed charged, as if a storm would begin at any moment, and yet, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Keeping her eyes skyward, Theo shrank closer to Carlisle.

“What  _ is _ that?” she asked.

“I was afraid you could sense it, Miss Wilkes,” Carlisle sighed, shifting his weight. “That would be Mister Walker’s influence on this town. It is far worse than I had previously anticipated.”

Great! Wonderful! Everything she could have  _ possibly  _ wanted to hear in that moment!

Theo’s stomach churned at the thought of facing  _ another _ creditor in a single day, especially one that apparently held so much “influence”. It wasn’t like she had a choice, though. She had to tackle as many as she could, as quickly as possible, didn’t she?

Otherwise, who knows who might come looking for her?

Heaving a great sigh, she folded her arms across her stomach, curling in on herself.

“Alright, let’s get this over with. Lead me to Walker’s.”

Carlisle flinched, looking at her with eyes wide as saucers, and twice as pretty.

“ _ Now _ , Miss Wilkes?” he floundered.

“Yes?” she floundered back.

“But why?”

“Why  _ else _ ? To take care of my contract, of course!”

“Do you really believe that to be wise, Miss Wilkes?”

“I don’t have any other options, do I?”

“Forgive me, Miss Wilkes, however, I really do not think this is the best course of action. Oh— but— that is— well… do forgive me, however, as your Divine Guide, I should really,  _ truly _ advise against it.”

Her head was spinning.

“Then what  _ else _ am I supposed to do?”

“Why… rest, of course,” he mumbled, wringing his hands together. “I worry about your health, Miss Wilkes. Particularly since you had a fever for the majority of the train ride here.”

“I  _ didn’t _ —”

“I simply fear that the stress of this journey may already be taking its toll on your body, and I am rather concerned about your constitution,” he explained, mumbling the entire time, his voice almost lost to the din of the city. Finally, he raised his gaze, meeting hers, his lip quivering. “I do believe you should rest for the remainder of the day, and, perhaps... see Mister Walker first thing tomorrow morning?”

His voice wavered with concern, melting her heart almost instantaneously. What sort of villain would she be to say  _ no _ to  _ that _ face? It was on the same level of sinning as kicking a defenseless puppy.

He was just  _ worried _ about her.

“Okay, okay!” Taking his hands in her own, she tilted her head back almost all the way to peer up into his face. Damn him for being so tall! “I’ll rest today. I promise.”

“You…?” he hesitated, his lip still quivering. “You will?”

“Yeah. If you think it’s a good idea, then I trust you.” Giving his hands a small squeeze, she tried to reassure him with a gentle smile of her own. “You’re my Divine Guide. Guess it’s my job to listen to you, isn’t it?”

Lowering his gaze to the floor, he smiled sheepishly, and tittered, his shoulders jumping in a little half-shrug.

“I could never be so garish, Miss Wilkes,” he mumbled, followed by another titter. She was quickly realizing that he tended to titter when he was nervous, particularly in matters concerning her. Well, it was one of the most endearing traits she had come across in a while, and, compared to the traits of the other divine company she had been keeping, it was welcome.

“You  _ should _ be! You’re my Guide, Carlisle. You can tell me ‘Theo, this seems like a bad idea’, or ‘Maybe you should take a break’!” With a little swing of their joined hands, she took another step closer to him.

It felt wrong, in a way, getting closer to him. It wasn’t so much that he was bad news, but rather, that  _ she _ was, and would somehow hurt him by being closer to him. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that she was skirting something dangerous, and yet, she wanted to push the envelope.

She wanted to see what would happen.

“You said it yourself, right? I’m not alone anymore,” she continued, reveling in the feeling of his hands in hers, the stability they seemed to provide to her unstable life. “So, the same goes for you. We’re partners in this, Carlisle. You’re not my boss, and I’m not yours. Let’s trust each other, okay?”

Lifting his eyes to meet hers, he gave her a soft, unsure smile. The smile of someone who had always been told he was never good enough, and that he had to remember his place. It broke her heart to see it, knowing that he had probably always been at the bottom of this supposed Divine Hierarchy.

“Very well, Miss Wilkes…”

“Oh, come on, Carlisle,” she urged softly, hooking her finger under his chin, just as he had done to her. “Chin up! We gotta get you feeling more confident. Can’t have you looking at yourself like you’re the gum on the bottom of someone’s shoe.”

Dropping his hands, she pranced to his side, hooking her arm through his.

“Come on, then! Show me some confidence!” she beamed, craning her head back. “Chin up, shoulders back, back straight!”

Carlisle adjusted his posture accordingly, flashing her a nervous, exhilarated smile.

“Like this, Miss Wilkes?”

“That’s right! You got it!” She stuck her leg out in an overdramatic first step. “Now, then! If you’d be so kind as to lead the way, Mister Adamson.”

With a flustered half-jump, he beamed at her.

“Right away, Miss Wilkes!”

There had to be some sort of mistake with their lodgings.

Any other situation, any other place, any other companion, any other  _ anything _ , and Theo wouldn’t have cared. She would have set her luggage down, thought,  _ well, nothing can be done about that, _ and settled in.

But it wasn’t any other situation, any other place, with any other companion, or any other anything. It was exactly  _ that _ situation, exactly  _ there _ , exactly with  _ him _ , and exactly, exactly, exactly  _ that _ .

“Um, ma’am? I’m sorry, but… are there any other rooms available?” she asked the owner of the bed and breakfast.

“Nope, sorry,” she responded, already leaving them behind to sort through this shortcoming themselves. “Supper will be served in an hour!”

Theo was left at the threshold, mouth agape.

“Is something inadequate, Miss Wilkes?” Carlisle asked, his lip already quivering. “I was quite hasty in making this arrangement, so please forgive me if I have done something wrong.”

“No, no… it’s not…  _ your _ fault.”

“... But the arrangements  _ are _ inadequate,” he muttered.

“Well—” she started, half-ready to defend his choice in accommodation, but the words falling off of her lips in a sad sort of mumbled gibberish. “No… I can… I’ll be fine!”

She was fighting for her  _ soul _ . This was small potatoes compared to that.

Marching forward, she set her luggage down on the  _ one and only bed _ in the room. The room that she was sharing with Carlisle. The bed that she would have to share with Carlisle that night. The bed that was not exactly large enough to comfortably accommodate two full-grown adults, especially when one was as tall as Carlisle. The bed that was going to make sure they were in  _ very close proximity _ ,  **_all night._ **

But it was fine.

_ Totally _ fine.

“Miss Wilkes?” Carlisle wheezed, wilting. “You are muttering to yourself… rather aggressively. Mister Walker’s influence did not leave you susceptible to otherworldly possession, did it?”

“Oh? I was muttering?” With an innocent laugh, she gave him a smile. “Sorry, Carlisle. Guess I was in my head for a minute there.”

He didn’t look convinced, and continued to wilt like a tulip.

“If you insist, Miss Wilkes. Please do inform me if you are feeling unwell in any way. I will help you however I can,” he offered, as one might offer to read the dictionary to a friend.

“That’s very sweet, Carlisle, thanks,” Theo smiled, turning back to her luggage, and throwing it open with enough force to threaten to break it apart by the seams.

With an audible gulp, he stepped forward, closing the distance between the two of them. Theo rifled through her luggage, haphazardly throwing her things aside, and, once again, muttering to herself, presumably in Tongues.

Once he reached her side, he leaned forward, carefully reaching for her hand. Taking her hand in both of his, he pulled her attention away from fervently unpacking.

“Miss Wilkes?” he asked, without his usual smile, worry lines writing themselves into his perfectly divine face. “We have agreed to help one another… so perhaps, you could tell me what is wrong? I will do what I can to remedy it as soon as possible.”

This finally got through to her. Lowering her gaze, she swallowed hard, fighting through the juvenile embarrassment that was worming its way into her throat.

“... Honestly, Carlisle, it’s just…” she trailed off, but found her voice again, “I know that you’re a good man, and you’re good by nature. It’s just the idea of sharing a bed with a man I barely know got to me a little bit.” Fixing her hat, she sighed. “Especially because—”

Theo slammed her mouth shut, appalled at the words that were about to escape her lips.

_ Especially because you’re so handsome. _

She was about to  _ actually _ admit that. To  _ him _ . To his  _ face. _

What was  _ wrong _ with her?! She was a wreck!

“Ah… forgive me. You mean it is not customary for two people to share a bed?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Uh—! Well— it  _ can _ be, but those people are usually… uh…” she faltered, hesitant to say something entirely too crass for a Divine Guide’s ears. “... Close.”

“... Are we not close, Miss Wilkes?”

“ _ Well _ — we  _ did _ just meet yesterday!”

“... Oh.” Wilting again, he dropped her hand, and turned away. “... My deepest apologies, Miss Wilkes. I was… not aware. It was my mistake. Please forgive me for assuming that we shared such… closeness.”

“Carlisle…” Placing a hand on the crook of his arm, she stepped closer, guilt weighing her down in the pit of her stomach. “I’m sorry— I didn’t mean to say that we’re not close, it’s just…”

There just wasn’t a delicate way to put it. Not only that, but it was far too familiar to her, in its own, gut-wrenching way. Only this time, instead of receiving it, she was doling it out.

It wasn’t like Carlisle would take advantage of her. And, even if he tried something funny, she could defend herself.

In her heart of hearts, she knew he wouldn’t do something like that.

“It’s fine. We can share the bed.”

Supper was served not long afterwards. The owners made polite small talk with Carlisle and Theo, as well as the other guests.

Of course, this wasn’t without its own awkward moments.

“So, what made you decide to have your honeymoon in Albany?” the owner asked, smiling politely at them.

“Oh, we are not—”

“UM—” Theo piped up, cutting Carlisle off before he could say something that most would deem improper. While these social norms didn’t mean so much to Theo, per se, it  _ would  _ raise eyebrows. She didn’t need  _ humans _ getting on her case, too. “My parents have a lodge in New Hampshire, so we are just… passing through.”

Carlisle gave her a quizzical look—  _ whatever are you talking about, Miss Wilkes? _ — which she answered with a stern one—  _ just follow my lead, for goodness sake! _

Other than a few white lies, however, it mostly went without incident.

It was  _ after _ supper that Theo was worried about.

_ After supper _ came sooner than she would have preferred, if she was being honest.

How she was going to sleep in the same bed as an absolute Adonis like Carlisle was beyond her. Regardless, she bathed, and went through the motions of her nighttime routine, desperate to keep her mind off of the inevitable.

Finally, the time of reckoning was upon her. Carlisle was preparing the bed for them, giving her a warm smile when she emerged from behind the privacy screen.

“Ah, Miss Wilkes. Are you ready to retire for the evening?”

Her face immediately caught fire. Crossing her arms across her stomach— which was churning, making an unfortunate racket— she trudged towards the bed.

Even Carlisle’s pajamas were high class, seemingly made of a silk-like material. It made her overly aware of her own cotton nightdress, which was shapeless… childish.

Practically jumping into bed, she pulled the sheets up to her nose, hoping to cover herself as much as possible. Turning away from Carlisle, she sulked, impatiently waiting for sleep to take her.

He got into bed, the bedsprings groaning under his weight.

Her heart hammered in her chest, every nerve in her body overly aware of his presence. In her mind’s eye, she could see exactly how he had positioned himself, every curve of his picturesque body.

“Good night, Miss Wilkes,” he whispered, his voice warm. Replace  _ Miss Wilkes _ with  _ Theo _ , and he really  _ could _ be mistaken for her husband, with that tone of voice.

Obviously, that didn’t help her current predicament.

“... Good night, Carlisle.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she hoped against hope that sleep wouldn’t waste any time.

Her wish was granted, surprisingly.

If Theo believed that the atmosphere within the city was bad, she was nowhere  _ near _ prepared for how thick the miasma was when standing right in front of Walker’s Inn.

Her head spun, her arms felt heavier than they should have, and her vision was beginning to close in on itself… and she hadn’t even stepped inside.

“So?” she panted, swallowing hard. “Anything I should look out for?”

She and Carlisle were standing on the edge of the treeline surrounding the inn. From the outside, it looked like a simple log cabin— nothing really stuck out as particularly special. The only indication that this was not a  _ simple log cabin _ was the deep sense of dread that wormed its way into her throat.

“With Mister Walker, please be wary that you do not rest.” He frowned, crossing his arms across his chest, keeping his eyes forward. “I am not quite sure what Mister Walker defines as ‘resting’, however, to be safe, I would recommend not even sitting down.”

His voice took on the same tone that it had when explaining Robertson’s conditions— dark, warning… completely unlike his usual sunny demeanor. If anything, it only added more weight to the situation at hand.

“I guess I should head in, shouldn’t I?”

“If you are not ready, Miss Wilkes, there is no need—”

“No. I need to go.” Straightening, she stood as tall as she could, head held high. “I’ll never be ready. I won’t ever be ready for any of them— I’m sure of that— but that doesn’t mean that I can never face them.” Taking a deep, steadying breath, she gave Carlisle one last look, and smiled. “See you on the other side.”

“Best of luck, Miss Wilkes,” he smiled, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “You will do wonderfully.”

_ I sure hope so _ , she thought, marching towards the inn.

The closer she got, the harder her heart pounded in her chest, each beat reverberating through her bones, threatening to send her to her knees. Her knees wobbled, her ankles felt weak, and her vision swayed.

With every step, she felt closer to collapsing.

Finally, she reached the door, her hand closing around the knob with all of her strength. Using the doorknob as leverage, she held herself up, her head already pounding. Grinding her teeth together, she pushed the door open, and fell into the inn.

As soon as she stepped inside, her physical symptoms disappeared, leaving behind a light emptiness.

It unnerved her more than the lightheadedness had. She had expected the symptoms, to some degree, but to be completely freed of them was almost worse.

Theo closed the door behind her, squinting her eyes against the dimness of the room she was in. It was small, much smaller than she was anticipating— particularly when compared to Robertson’s restaurant.

It was completely silent. Or rather, there was the overwhelming sense that it  _ should be _ completely silent. Throughout the room, massive, formless shapes snored, breaking the room’s silence, one breath at a time. It didn’t seem to bother anyone else, although Theo wondered how  _ anyone _ could sleep with that racket.

As her eyes adjusted to the light— or lack thereof— she scanned the room, trying to figure out which one of these monstrosities could be Walker. It was nearly impossible to discern any defining features from the bodies littering the room.

She was at least fairly confident that most, if not all, of them were alive. It was a small blessing, but after Robertson’s cannibalistic restaurant, anything was welcome.

_ They’re alive, _ she thought, relieved.

**_For now,_ ** another internal voice interrupted, sending a shiver through her spine.

Tip-toeing through the room, she took extra care to make sure her heels never hit the wooden floors. A deep, primal part of her seemed to warn her that waking any of these people up would have rather… unfortunate consequences.

A gory image passed through her mind’s eye— one of these behemoths violently ripping her arm clean off of her body— and, with a shudder, she forced herself to focus. It was an intrusive thought… nothing more.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

In the far corner of the room, a single lightbulb illuminated itself, slowly flickering on and off in odd intervals. The light it emitted caught on several hunting trophies hanging on the nearby walls. Though taxidermied, their age was quite obvious, the trophies falling into various states of disrepair, musty, almost molding.

The empty, soulless eyes of the trophies seemed to follow her around the room. There were others, too… perhaps she couldn’t see them in the dimness, or they hid themselves when she turned around.

Either way, she was being watched, and she was being watched  _ intently. _

Underneath the flickering lightbulb was a massive figure slouched over a table, head buried into their arms. They were far larger than the rest that Theo had passed, which was probably a sign.

Carefully stepping over the sleeping people that littered the floor— falling off of chairs, legs stretched out, arms flopped over, the works— she made her way towards the figure, rarely taking her eyes off of the floor.

As she drew closer to the sleeping figure, the light flickered off. A few seconds passed, and it flickered on again. And, sure enough, under the glow of the lightbulb, she could see the ring on the figure’s finger, practically calling to her.

This was Walker, all right.

He snored, his whole body quivering from the physical exertion of the action. The man was built like a lumberjack, and the phrase  _ sawing logs _ never seemed quite as appropriate as it did then. Tattoos of unfamiliar designs decorated his arms, the ink old and faded, yet still holding its shape.

“Mister Walker?” she whispered, leaning in closer. With no shortage of trepidation, she reached forward, and patted his forearm. “Mister Walker…?”

He didn’t awaken.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to keep prodding him, particularly when Carlisle’s description of  _ prone to violence _ was hanging over her head.

If he didn’t wake up, what would happen to her contract? She was there, she was ready and willing— well, not exactly  _ willing _ , but same difference— to conduct her business with him. It was  _ Walker _ that wasn’t exactly present.

… So now what?

His ring was right there. She could just… take it.

_ “No stealing,” _ The Entity’s voice echoed in her head, a little too vivid to just be a simple memory.

So much for that plan.

“Mister Walker…?” she whispered again, just barely jostling his arm. It wouldn’t be enough to wake a sleeping housecat, but she was still hoping it would work. With a sigh, her arm flopped to her side.

She was out of ideas. If he wasn’t going to wake up, what was she supposed to do?

When she was a child, and her father wouldn’t wake up quite so easily, she would just take a running jump, and land directly on his stomach. It didn’t take a genius to know that that would most likely result in instant-death with Walker.

A deep rumbling caught her attention, her ears perking up to the sound. It didn’t sit well with her, if only because she had been sure there had been clear skies when she walked in.

Sure enough, thunder cracked outside, travelling up the valley until the sound shook the windows of the cabin. It just didn’t make sense… but then again,  _ nothing _ made sense anymore. A freak summer storm was the least of her worries.

She hoped Carlisle was okay, and could find shelter from the storm.

The thunder continued to rumble, slowly surrounding the entire cabin, sending a shiver up her spine. It was wrong. It was all wrong.

She was still being watched.

Glancing at the hulking figure next to her, she reached out, just one more time. If he didn’t wake up, she would just cut her losses, and come back later. Save him for last.

The light overhead went out. It didn’t flicker on again.

“Mister Walker…?” she asked, only a decibel louder than before, reaching for him.

Lightning flashed through the windows, thunder cracking overhead, just as Walker’s figure stirred, his hand shooting out and closing around her wrist. The thunder drowned out Theo’s cry, half from the pain of Walker’s hand crushing her wrist, half from the fear that he stirred in her.

“Who the hell’re  _ you _ ?” he growled, his gravelly voice on par with the still-rumbling thunder. What little light was in the room was reflected off of his eyes as they roamed over her, taking her in. Frown deepening, he pushed himself to his feet, still holding onto her wrist. When standing at full height, his head grazed the ceiling. “Must be the little Wilkes girl.”

That’s right… The Entity had told Robertson to spread the word. Walker must have heard about her that way.

“Yes, sir,” she gulped, hoping to keep her insults to a minimum. “I’m here to contest the contract.”

Another flash of lightning illuminated him, just for a nanosecond, but it was enough. Walker had thick bags under his eyes, with dark circles lining them. A bulky, tangled beard covered the bottom half of his face, liver spots dotting what little skin she  _ could _ see. His lips, which barely poked through his beard, were pulled into a perpetual frown, just as his eyebrows seemed to be perpetually furrowed.

Carlisle was right. He  _ was _ surly. He was practically the embodiment of it.

He was also  _ huge _ . Easily a foot and a half taller than Theo, and twice, if not triple her weight. He leaned forward, the table groaning under his weight.

“Do I look like I got time to pussyfoot around, Wilkes?” he snarled into her face, his rancid breath reeking of bootleg alcohol. To Theo, it seemed like he had nothing  _ but _ time, if he was just sleeping all day long. “That cheat father of yours really did a number on my business.”

“He’s not a cheat!” she snapped, her voice rising for the first time since entering his inn.

A few of the patrons closest to her stirred, cursing and grumbling under their breaths as they turned over in their sleep. She glanced at them over her shoulder, her heart pounding in her chest, although she didn’t know why.

“Keep your voice down,” Walker warned. “Unless you wanna leave here missin’ a few parts.” That intrusive thought from earlier returned to the forefront of her mind, just as violent as before. “They get  _ real _ pissed when woken up, Wilkes. I wouldn’t test my luck if I were you.”

“Are they your… contractees?” she asked, her voice returning to a whisper. The thunder was much louder than she was, but somehow, it didn’t seem to matter.

It wasn’t the volume in the environment that mattered. It was  _ hers. _

“They’re whatever you wanna call them.” With a great deal of effort, he leaned back until he hit the wall, crossing his arms across his broad chest, and glaring at her, his eyes glowing in the shadows. The very action seemed to exhaust him. “You should’ve met Robertson’s, too.”

How could she forget?

“I don’t have anyone managin’ the place,” Walker snorted, clearing the phlegm from his throat. “Could use an extra set of hands.”

Robertson had said something similar, stated his desires to have a new  _ permanent _ employee, just like his maître d’... what’s-his-face. To Theo, it seemed that her “eternal servitude” wouldn’t be just lounging around, eating her heart out, or sleeping the day away.

No, it seemed that they all had something much more  _ hands-on _ in mind for her.

“It won’t happen,” she countered, holding her ground.

“Wanna bet?”

The certainty in his voice shook her confidence. Obviously, just as with Robertson, she couldn’t  _ guarantee _ that she wouldn’t fall victim to whatever mind games Walker had in mind. She could only hope.

“We saw the look on your father’s face before he offed himself. He was plannin’ to do himself in, for all of us to see.”

Her stomach dropped at the memory, at the sight of his crushed head, the smell of his blood, the sound of his skull being smashed like a pumpkin. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to look at the man before her.

“You were there?” she asked, her voice heavy with resent.

“Yep. Everyone was plannin’ on collectin’ that night. Even Cain showed his ugly mug. The only one who didn’t was Devereux.”

_ Devereux… _ why didn’t he show up? Wasn’t he also hoping to cash in on Theophilus’ soul?

Before she could ask for more details, he moved on.

“Let’s get this over with. I’m done talkin’ with the likes of you.” Walker snorted, sounding more and more animalistic the longer their conversation dragged on. “Ever played craps, Wilkes?”

Lifting her chin up high, she shook her head, hoping to mask even an ounce of the fear that she felt.

Robertson had been a disgusting creature, but at least she had always felt confident that she could, at the very least, run away from him.

Walker, however…

His large, callused hands, with scrapes and bruises dotting his knuckles, could easily snap her neck in his grip. Rotting teeth poked out from his lips, barely visible beneath the beard that overtook his face.

If he was any normal human being, Theo would be convinced that he left a string of bar fights in his wake; petty misunderstandings quickly becoming lethal altercations. He was a man who wore his temper on his sleeve, his fuse visible for all to see.

He was the kind of man that one should be  _ very _ careful around.

Never mind her soul; Theo wasn’t sure she’d leave with all of her  _ bones _ intact if she got on his bad side.

“We’ll use my dice.” In any other situation, such a gesture could be seen as generous, however, she wasn’t exactly optimistic. Walker didn’t seem like a philanthropist. He seemed like the exact opposite: an ass.

Fishing the dice out of his pocket, he threw the black dice onto the table, lightning flashing as they landed, the bright green snake eyes staring up at Theo. Thunder rumbled outside, and while it still shook the cabin, somehow, it felt faraway.

The dice called to Theo, much like how the ring did.

“Let’s keep this quick, Wilkes. Pass or Don’t Pass?”

“Uh… Pass?” Theo parroted, having absolutely no clue what Walker was talking about. She only hoped she hadn’t just inadvertently given up her turn. “Wait— what does that even mean?”

“You roll a 7 or an 11, and the ring’s yours. You roll a 2, 3, or 12, and your soul’s mine.”

… Oh, no. This was  _ much _ more up to chance than she would like.

“What about the other numbers?” she asked, hoping to get  _ any _ clarification on how to play this stupid game.

“Let’s see if you roll another number first.”

Picking up the dice, she rattled them in her hand, eyes flashing between the table and Walker. His half-lidded eyes barely glowed through the darkness of the room— though not nearly as much as Robertson’s did— as he watched her, appraising her.

He was sizing her up.

With a shaky breath, Theo threw the dice onto the table. Her hands were trembling, and in an effort to save face, she hid her hands behind her back.

Leaning forward, looming over the table, Walker looked down.

The dice landed… a 4 and a 2.

“So… now what?” Theo asked, looking up at him.

“6 is the point. Roll a 6 again, and you win. Roll a 7, and you lose.”

_ What sort of maniac made the rules for this game? _ she thought, an exasperated frown warping her features. What about the 2, 3, and 12? Why was 7 now a  _ losing _ number?

If she got through this whole ordeal, she’d  _ never _ gamble, if only because it was so damn annoying.

“Okay…” she started, moving to pick up the dice again. However, before she could take them, Walker’s hand closed around her wrist again, her bones creaking under his grip. Grinding her teeth together, she bowed her head, determined to keep quiet.

She couldn’t wake up the others. Not if she wanted to leave that place alive.

“That’s too easy, Wilkes.”

_ Of course it is. _

“I need a new pair of hands, so let’s say this. You roll a 2, 3, 7, or 12, and you lose. You roll a 6, and you win.”

“That’s not fair!” she growled, her voice low.

“Your pops cheated all of us outta our contracts, and  _ you’re _ talkin’ about fair?” he growled back, yanking her arm over her head, nearly pulling Theo off of the ground.

A few of the closer patrons began to groan. Her eyes flashed to them, just in time to see them groping around in the dark, sitting up, rubbing their faces.

They were waking up. She was running out of time.

Another flash of lightning, another crack of thunder.

Returning her eyes to Walker, she set her jaw.

“It’s my turn.” Yanking herself away, she broke free of his grip, rubbing her wrist when she did. “Let me roll.”

He glared at her, another flash of lightning illuminating his face, casting shadows around the room. With no shortage of disdain, he dropped the dice on the table. Swiping them up, Theo wasted no time in shaking them in her hand, and throwing them out onto the table.

A 6 and a 3.

“Again,” he growled, his eyes boring into hers. She rolled again. A 2 and a 2. “Again.” A 3 and a 1. “ _ Again. _ ”

More and more patrons began to stir. Theo rolled again, sweat dotting her brow.

A 4 and a 5.

“Oh, come on!” she hissed. How hard was it to roll another 6? Not only that, but with every roll, she was closer to rolling one of Walker’s numbers, and losing.

A branch tapped against the window, calling her attention away from the game. A flash of lightning illuminated the tree branch— although she couldn’t recall any trees around the windows before, now that she was thinking about it…

It tapped the window again, looking a bit too much like a gnarled finger with an elongated talon on the end of it.

Another tree branch tapped against another window, scratching the glass.

“Word’s gotten out,” Walker remarked, just barely loud enough for Theo to hear over the tapping. Beyond the thunder and the rain and the wind, she could  _ swear _ she heard snickering. Was it just a draft in the cabin?

The fear settling into her core begged to differ.

“Hurry it up, Wilkes,” he huffed. “I don’t got anyone to clean your guts off the walls. Not yet, anyway.”

Picking up the dice once more, a drop of sweat dripping down the back of her neck, she squeezed her eyes shut, and threw them down.

The scratching and tapping got  _ worse _ , filling her ears, until that was all she could hear. She  _ could _ hear snickering, beyond the din, crushing her head with their voices. Tears sprang to her eyes, and finally,  _ finally _ , she opened them.

The dice had landed… two 3’s, making a 6.

Before she could rejoice, or feel any relief at all, Walker grabbed the table, and threw it aside, hitting some of the other furniture, shattered shards of wood flying through the space. Grabbing Theo by the front of her dress, he lifted her off the ground, shaking her.

“What are you tryna pull, Wilkes?!” he roared, shattering the remaining silence within the room, rattling her bones. “You damn cheat!”

“How could I—?!” she shrieked, cut off by a window shattering on the far edge of the room.

“Let me at her!” a voice hissed, cackling.

Theo only caught a glimpse of the lanky figure crawling in through the window before Walker threw her to the floor. Crying out in pain, she scrambled away, sliding across the floor, her eyes never leaving him.

“You get outta here, ‘less you wanna die!” Walker roared at the figure crawling in. It smiled, rows of razor-sharp teeth glinting in the lightning, and stopped moving. From its perch on the window, it watched Theo with glowing yellow eyes, no pupils in sight.

_ Get up! _

Turning his attention back to her, Walker lumbered forward, his eyes glowing brightly as he closed in on her. She continued to scramble back, never leaving the ground, until her back hit the wall. What little distance there was between them was quickly filled by his gargantuan steps.

He came to a stop, lining up perfectly with a pair of ram horns that had been hung on the wall, framing his head perfectly, as if they were his own.

“No one comes into Walker’s Inn and just  _ leaves _ . You gotta pay your dues, Wilkes.”

The patrons continued to stir, and groan, creating a cacophony of grumbles. One by one, their eyes opened, all of them looking at the pair, the hunter and the prey, their eyes dimly glowing.

Before she could formulate a plan, or an answer, the window above Theo’s head shattered. Screaming, she covered her head, shards of glass raining down around her. An arm reached in, searching for her, its talons taking hold of her hat, and ripping it off of her head.

Before they could grab her, Walker stepped forward, and took the arm in his meaty hand. With a grunt, he yanked, an awful tearing sound filling Theo’s ears, sickly warm liquid pouring down over her head. There was a scream, something primal and animalistic, but she wasn’t sure if it was her own, or something else’s.

When she looked up, she saw Walker holding a disembodied arm, torn at the elbow, blood freely pouring onto the floor by her feet.

_ Get up, Theo! Get up! _

He threw the arm to the side, reaching down to grab her. Fighting off hyperventilation, she pushed herself to her feet, rain pouring in from the broken window, soaking her to the bone.

“I won! Fair and square!” she roared, fueled by fear. The sickening liquid poured down her head and face, just barely missing her mouth. “The contract is null!”

The patrons began to get to their feet, lumbering towards the two of them. She was out of time, and she knew it, but she couldn’t leave just yet.

Holding out her hand, Theo stood her ground.

“Give me the damn ring, Walker.” Moving away from the window, she kept her eyes on Walker, backing herself into a corner so there could be no more surprises. The patrons were getting closer and closer, surrounding Walker, the dark circles under their eyes illuminated by the lightning that continued to flash outside.

“What makes you think—?”

“A deal’s a deal. The contract’s broken, and your ring is mine,” she growled, desperate, and frightened. “Unless you want The Entity coming here, you better hand it over.”

Walker stared at her, his eyes returning to their initial, dull glow. She didn’t move, and never took her eyes off of him. She might have been backed into a corner, but she wasn’t going to lose. Not to a man like him.

“Fine.” With a snarl, his hand closed around the ring, struggling to get it off of his finger. Eventually, it came loose, and he dropped it into her palm.

“Now, let me through.”

Her hand closed around the ring, its energy pulsing through her palm. Walker stared at her, unmoving, his contractees gazing at her with glazed eyes.

Eventually, he stepped aside, nodding to his followers.

Stepping around him, she began to walk through the room, passing by patron after patron, who only watched her go with dazed, dimly glowing eyes.

This young woman, covered in the blood of some inhuman creature, had just beat the very man who had trapped all of them there.

When Theo glanced their way, their eyes gave her pause. They weren’t filled with hatred, or malice, but rather, extreme sadness. Mournful, somber eyes watched her go, never once lifting a hand to her.

They didn’t help her, but they didn’t impede her, either.

She continued to walk, lowering her gaze to the floor, her stomach churning from guilt.

“Fat lot of good it’ll do you, Wilkes,” Walker snarled as she reached the door. “Those pricks’re waitin’ for you outside. You won’t last a day!”

Stopping with her hand on the doorknob, she bowed her head for a moment, a deep sigh shuddering through her body.

They wanted her?

That was too damn bad.

Turning to look at Walker, she smiled, the congealed blood on her face cracking under the pressure of the movement.

“Wanna bet?” Opening the door, Theo marched straight into the storm, immediately thrashed by the wind and rain. She was nearly blinded by this show that nature was putting on for her, but she forced herself to continue, squinting against the storm.

As far as she could tell, those creatures— whatever they had been— were gone.

“Miss Wilkes!”

Carlisle’s voice was carried on the wind, making it impossible to tell where he was, or how far. Searching her surroundings, she eventually saw him rushing through the woods, running straight towards her.

“Carlisle…” she gasped, her voice barely audible, even to herself.

The storm continued to rage around them, the tree branches thrashing against one another, lightning flashing overhead, almost immediately followed by deafening thunder.

Rushing forward, Theo met Carlisle halfway, and threw her arms around him. He held her close, shaking in her embrace.

“Oh, Miss Wilkes…” he gasped, panting, completely rain-soaked. “I was so worried about you.”

“I’m fine, Carlisle. I’m fine.” She wasn’t sure which one of them she was saying that for, but it didn’t seem to be working, either way. Leaning back, he took her face into his hands, and stared at her. She wasn’t sure if it was rain streaming down his face, or his tears, or a mix of both.

“I am so relieved,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You were in there for so long…”

“How long? Half an hour? 45 minutes?”

Carlisle shook his head, bolts of lightning forking overhead, casting him in shadow.

“Five days.”

The blood drained from her face. Holding onto Carlisle for support, she fought off the wave of faintness that overtook her, her heart pounding in her chest.

He was completely serious, she knew. He would never joke about something like that.

“What? How—?”

Before he could explain how she was  _ possibly _ in there for five days, a tree branch snapped to their right. Through the trees, Theo could see a group of men in pinstripe suits and large fedoras coming closer— caricatures of the stereotypical mobster. There were easily a dozen of them, at least.

Her pendant pulsed before matching pace with her heart.

“Carlisle…?” Shrinking against him, she never took her eyes off of the men getting closer.

The one leading the group caught her attention. It wasn’t the razor-sharp smile poking out from beneath the rim of his hat, or the odd discoloration of his skin, or the unnatural way he moved, but rather, the missing left forearm, the sleeve torn and bloodied.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he snickered, sending a wave of shivers through her.

“Miss Wilkes, we must get going,” Carlisle murmured, his arms tightening around her. “Are you well enough to run?”

She nodded.

“Hand the girl over, clod. She’s fair game.”

Carlisle flinched, only slightly, before turning Theo around, and breaking into a sprint, leading her through the woods at breakneck speeds. Every step felt sure as they raced through the woods, lightning illuminating their path, and the thunder drowning out their footsteps sloshing through the flooded undergrowth.

“We need to get to the train station, Miss Wilkes!” Carlisle yelled over the storm, sparing her a glance over his shoulder. “Do not let go of my hand!”

“I won’t!”

Hand-in-hand, they raced through the forest, squinting against the rain. Right as they saw the end of the treeline, lightning struck a nearby tree, setting it aflame. Still, they didn’t stop running.

**_“DON’T LET ‘EM GET AWAY!!”_ ** the one-armed man— although Theo would use the term  _ man _ or  _ human _ quite loosely— bellowed. The mob was closing in on them, their footsteps shaking the very earth.

“Miss Wilkes, we are almost there!” Carlisle shouted, gripping her hand even harder.

Finally,  _ finally, _ they broke through the treeline, sprinting into town proper, towards the train station. The lightning seemed to follow them, striking every tall building in their vicinity, blinding them, threatening to throw off their rhythm.

The train station was just ahead.

Casting a glance over her shoulder, Theo watched as the mob began to back off, the leader slowing to a stop. Tilting his head back, he exposed a single, glowing, yellow eye from beneath the brim of his fedora, grinning at her.

“You can run, girlie, but you can’t hide!” he cackled, his voice ringing perfectly clear despite the din of the storm. “We’ll see you ‘round!”

His grin was the last thing she saw before she and Carlisle practically tumbled into the train station, the door closing them off from the mob. For now.

“Miss Wilkes?” he panted, gently holding her by the shoulders, and looking her over. “You are unhurt, I hope?” She nodded. She wasn’t hurt… just shaken. “Oh, thank goodness.”

Carlisle took her into his arms, enveloping her. Digging her nails into the soaked fabric of his coat, she buried her head into his shoulder. She was close to crying— she  _ wanted _ to cry, but she couldn’t.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, catching her breath, rebuilding her world. Carlisle held her the entire time, eventually resting his head on hers.

She felt empty, completely exhausted. She had gotten the ring from the second creditor, who, in many ways, was not as terrible as Robertson had been, and yet, had simultaneously been worse. The future was unknown, but she had to keep going.

Especially if  _ those men _ were the unsavory characters she was told to watch out for.

A train whistle broke her out of her haze, bringing her back to her heavy, exhausted body. If she had really been “gone” for five days, then was she feeling five days’ worth of no rest? Or was it simply the adrenaline draining from her body so quickly, it was giving her whiplash?

“That is our train, Miss Wilkes,” Carlisle murmured, leaning away from her, as much as she wished he hadn’t. “Come, you can rest for as long as you like in our compartment.”

Rest.

She liked the sound of that.


	4. Ignatius Dods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!! :^)
> 
> This chapter has a special sort of exception to it. The song used here is "Shake It Up", but it does NOT apply to Dods! Can you figure out who it applies to? Feel free to leave your answers in the comments, or you can tag me on twitter (@soowonheika) or tumblr (longhairedantagonists)! I'd love to hear your theories!

The gentle rocking of the train lulled Theo to sleep almost immediately. She didn’t have time to ask Carlisle about what had just taken place, about her pursuers, about where they were going… nothing.

Then again, after whatever had just happened at Walker’s Inn, she was hardly capable of keeping her eyes open, much less comprehending any sort of otherworldly information. Sleep was the only option for her at the moment.

If she dreamt, it was only a series of foggy scenes. Hardly anything forming a narrative.

When Theo was lulled out of sleep, she found herself cradled in Carlisle’s arms, curled up against his chest.

Her first reaction, of course, was to create as much distance between them as possible. However, when her body didn’t immediately react, and launch itself towards the ground (as she had planned), she realized that she wasn’t as against it as she had thought.

In fact… she felt comfortable in his arms. At peace.

He didn’t seem aware that she was awake. Well, maybe that was for the best. Shifting slightly, she rested her head directly against where his heart was— only to find he didn’t have a heartbeat.

Of course he didn’t. He wasn’t human.

His arm came up to rest on her waist, keeping her as still as possible against the rhythm of the train’s movements. Even when he thought she was asleep, he still did his utmost to protect her, to keep her comfortable, and safe.

Theo didn’t hate it.

Yawning through her nose, she closed her eyes again, falling headfirst into sleep’s waiting embrace.

“Miss Wilkes…” Carlisle’s cooing voice lulled her out of sleep once more. The train had stopped moving, from what she could tell. She was still curled up against his chest, his large hand rubbing her back. “I apologize for waking you, Miss Wilkes… however, we have reached our destination.”

_ So soon? _ she thought, before realizing the flaw in her reasoning. Of  _ course _ it seemed soon— she had been asleep for the entirety of the train ride.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, his voice softer than his usual, already-soft tone. Theo nodded, pushing herself away, rubbing her face.

There was a patch of dried skin on her face, judging by the texture of it against her gloves. Scratching at it, she inspected her gloved fingertip, only to see black flakes dotting the surface.

“What the—?”

Then the memory hit her.

Walker, ripping the arm off of that…  _ creature _ … and its blood pouring down her face. Theo and Carlisle might’ve run through the storm, but she never properly washed up before the train ride.

Groaning in disgust, she recoiled from him.

“I’m sorry— I had no idea I was still covered in this… this…” she trailed off, frantically rubbing at her face, hoping to erase every last speck.

“... Ichor?” he filled in, taking out his handkerchief. “It is not your fault, Miss Wilkes. You were exhausted beyond belief.”

Placing a hand on her arm, he gave her a soft smile before leaning in closer, and gently wiping at her face.

“I didn’t get it on you, did I?” she asked, cheeks flushing in shame.

“I do not believe so, Miss Wilkes. Now, please, hold still,” he murmured, his hand moving to cradle the back of her head as he rubbed at a particularly insistent fleck of dried blood, right at the corner of her mouth. He was focused on the task, his shocking blue eyes fixated on her lips.

Swallowing hard, she raised her eyes to the ceiling of the train compartment, hoping against hope that she could focus on  _ literally anything else _ . Needless to say, she wasn’t having much success.

“I am quite relieved that you were able to get your rest, Miss Wilkes. I was rather worried about how you might fare, should you push yourself beyond your physical limits.”

That’s right… in her haze, she hadn’t been able to ask for any details regarding the obscene amount of time she had spent in Walker’s Inn.

“You said I was in there for five days?” she asked, her eyes returning to his face right as he finished, leaning back from her. With a solemn nod, he tucked the handkerchief back into his waistcoat pocket.

“I am afraid so,” he sighed. “Had I been aware that the inn was a temporal vortex, I would not have sent you in there so soon.”

“Then… you were waiting around for me? For five whole days?”

“Indeed, I was.” Standing up, he held his hand out to her. “I shall continue to explain once we reach our lodging for this evening.”

Taking his hand, she laced their fingers together, giving him a faltering smile.

“... Okay.”

Once again, their accommodation only had one bed between the two of them. After spending the entire trip to Philadelphia asleep in Carlisle’s arms, Theo found she didn’t mind as much as she had before.

To her, it was only the day prior that she had made such a fuss about sharing a bed with him. To  _ him _ , however, it seemed to be even earlier. Judging by the sheer exhaustion that still weighed her body down, she was inclined to believe his claims.

Washing her face in the basin, she furiously scrubbed at her face, hoping to erase every last  _ possible _ speck of dried blood. Despite her efforts, she could still feel the patches of congealed gore on her skin, and scrubbed harder.

Once she had finished, her face was red, nearly raw, but at least she couldn’t physically feel the blood anymore. However, the memory of the sickly, warm liquid pouring down her face, drenching her hair, its pungent odor filling her nostrils… that wasn’t going  _ anywhere _ .

“Alright,” she sighed, sitting on the bed. She had barely sat down for a few seconds before the exhaustion began to catch up again, threatening to overtake her. Forcing herself to sit up straight, she continued, “What happened at Walker’s? You said it was a… a vortex, or something?”

“Indeed.” Taking a seat next to her, Carlisle took her hands into his, bowing his head, seemingly in shame.

“Then what happened to the people that were stuck there? How long have  _ they _ been there?” she asked, once again dreading the answer.

The sadness in the patrons’ eyes haunted her thoughts. In some ways, they seemed to look at her as if she was a lost daughter of theirs, or a long-forgotten love. A ghost of their pasts.

They were husks of the people they had once been. And, though she was a little too preoccupied at the time to properly notice, she had the nagging feeling that there were soldiers in there.

_Union_ _soldiers_.

The thought entered her head without her realizing it, and it was harder to shake than she would have liked.

“Mister Walker is a very powerful man, Miss Wilkes,” Carlisle explained, grim. “His patrons believe they have only been there for a single night. Perhaps two.” Averting his gaze, his eyes traveled to the window, seeming distant. Afraid. “I fear that… as soon as they fall asleep, Mister Walker preys upon them, upon their souls. What is worse: they are doing no evil. They only wish for a moment’s rest. Walker provides them an eternity.”

Her stomach dropped at the word  _ eternity _ .

They were nothing more than victims of circumstances. Was it the same for Robertson’s patrons? Had they only been hungry  _ once _ and appeared at the worst place, at the worst time? Or had they been far more insidious than that?

Similarly, had  _ Walker’s _ patrons really been so innocent? Or were they to blame for their circumstances?

Was there anyone  _ to _ blame?

“I am only glad you did not fall under his influence, as well, Miss Wilkes.”

To be fair, she had been spread so thin, running on nothing but nerves, that sleep wasn’t even an option for her. It would have been more likely that she would have passed out, rather than  _ willingly _ slept there.

“Speaking of, why did you wait around for me for so long?” she asked, before sputtering, “Not that I’m upset! I’m only— well, to be perfectly frank, I’m surprised you waited for me. I would think you would’ve left after the third day.”

“Please, allow me to explain,” he started, running his thumb over the back of her hand. “As your Divine Guide, Miss Wilkes, I can sense certain aspects of your energy. It is distinct to you, and only  _ you _ have it.” His eyes remained fixated on their joined hands. “I suppose you could call it your ‘spirit’ or your ‘soul’.”

His voice was low, intimate. Despite bowing his head, she could see his lips pull up into the slightest smile, as if talking about a particularly beautiful sunset he had seen. It was wistful, and— she believed— longing, in a way.

Or maybe she was reading too much into it.

“If  _ anything _ were to happen to you, Miss Wilkes… I would be able to sense it.”

Finally, he raised his eyes to hers. Emotion wavered in them, more of those starry tears piling up along his waterline. His eyes scanned her face, taking all of her features in, until his eyes found hers once more, holding her there, freezing her in place.

His lip quivered as he tried to force a smile.

“I am so glad you are safe, Miss Wilkes,” he whispered, his voice breaking as a single tear fell down his cheek.

The sight stirred tears in Theo’s eyes, as well, his handsome features warping in her blurred vision. Her heart broke for him. Seeing him so upset, and knowing that it was indirectly her fault, was too much to bear.

“Don’t cry, Carlisle,” she whispered back in a wavering voice, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “I’m right here. I’m safe.”

“You are safe,” he repeated, smiling weakly.

Heart squeezing in her chest, she threw her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. Carlisle gasped, just barely audible. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her closer, burying his head into her shoulder.

Her heart pounded in her chest— she was sure he could feel it, but a selfish part of her wanted him to. She wanted him to feel how much he affected her, how much she cared for him already.

“I’m sorry I made you worry,” she murmured, genuine, but unsure of what else to say.

“You are not the one who should be apologizing, Miss Wilkes,” he paused, pulling away from her. “In truth, I have come to hold quite… negative emotions towards your creditors.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, no matter how small and pathetic it might have come out.

“You and me, both.”

That night, Carlisle insisted that he sleep on the side of the bed that was closest to the window. After hearing the tale of how Theo had escaped from Walker’s Inn, he aired his fears:

Unfortunately, as those mobster-types weren’t  _ human _ , they weren’t trapped in the same laws of physics as Theo was. That included the time it took to travel, as it so happened. They didn’t need to catch a train, or try and locate where they might have been.

They just  _ knew. _

Just like Carlisle, they could sense her spirit. It was only a matter of time before they showed up again.

Extinguishing the lights for the night, Carlisle settled into bed beside her, his presence putting her at ease. The moonlight filtered in through the window, backlighting him as he laid on his side, propping himself up with his elbow.

“Fret not, Miss Wilkes,” he whispered, his voice almost husky, in a way. “I will protect you with all of my might.”

As he caressed her cheek, she smiled, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight as she looked up at him. Her heart hammered away as she gazed up at him, as his thumb brushed her cheek, and as he gave her a soft smile.

“Thanks, Carlisle.”

His eyes crinkled, practically sparkled in the dimness of the room, warm and close and comfortable.

“I know you think it’s improper, but… if you wanna call me ‘Theo’, it’s fine, I promise.”

_ “The only time a Guide has ever referred to their client by their given name has been when they are in love.”  _ That was what he had told her.

She found herself steadily wishing her name would fall from his lips, just  _ once _ . What would it sound like when spoken with his voice? What would he look like, if he smiled while calling her?

“Maybe… just between us?” she pressed, finding it difficult to fight off the coy smile that pulled at her lips.

He opened his mouth, just ever so slightly, and she could  _ swear _ she saw him begin to form the word, but… he stopped himself. Trailing his thumb across the apple of her cheek once more, he smiled, almost seeming regretful.

“Good night, Miss Wilkes,” he breathed, his voice strained. “Please, rest well, and have sweet dreams.”

Slumping into her pillow, she sighed.

“Good night.”

With that, she turned over, keeping her back to him, and closed her eyes. The stinging pain of embarrassment kept her awake for an extra twenty minutes, but ultimately, exhaustion won out in the end.

“C’mon, Carlisle! Shake a leg!”

Marching down the street the next morning, Theo felt refreshed and ready to tackle the next creditor. Strictly metaphorically, of course, but if the opportunity presented itself to  _ literally _ tackle the next creditor, she wouldn’t pass it up.

“Miss Wilkes,” Carlisle panted as he chased after her, “are you quite sure you are feeling well enough to speak to Mister Dods? Perhaps you should spend today resting, instead?”

“I can’t just sleep the day away!” she protested, keeping her eyes forward. “I slept plenty last night, I’ll be fine.”

She  _ said _ that, but she wasn’t fully prepared to believe it.

After facing both Robertson and Walker, she was mentally preparing herself to see another hellish nightmare while facing Dods.

Maybe the patrons would be as violent as Walker was, or as vile as Robertson, or as insidious as the new fellows that were stalking Theo. Maybe Dods would pull some dirty, low-down tricks like Robertson had, or use fear tactics like Walker. Maybe the place of business would be some dilapidated, rundown shack that was on the verge of collapsing in on itself, and she’d have to maneuver around fallen beams and crumbling walls.

The possibilities were endless, and her imagination was filling in the blanks with all the worst possible scenarios.

It was a hot and sticky summer morning, and already, sweat was building up along her hairline. The creditors couldn’t come to collect during the nice spring months, when the weather was fair and warm. No, they just  _ had _ to choose the summer, when it was hot as sin.

… Well, maybe that was just their schtick.

“What’s the plan of attack this time?” she asked as Carlisle sidled up next to her, matching his pace with hers. “Robertson was  _ no eating _ , Walker was  _ no resting _ … what’s the catch with Dods?”

“I fear that Mister Dods does not have such a clear-cut vice…” he trailed off, his voice almost being swallowed up by the sounds of the awakening city. “I suppose, if I were to give you any sort of advice, Miss Wilkes, it would be to believe in yourself.”

Stopping in her tracks, she turned to Carlisle, an eyebrow quirked.

“Seriously?” she sighed. “What, am I living in one of  _ Aesop’s Fables _ ?”

“I am afraid I do not know what you are speaking of, Miss Wilkes,” he tittered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I am not very well-informed about human culture, admittedly. That was never quite the specialty in Accounting.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” Scanning the bustling city around her, she watched as people walked to work, bought newspapers, had cups of coffee… none the wiser to the quest that she was currently on. “What do you mean by ‘believe in myself’?”

“Well, I simply mean… Mister Dods is quite convincing. He may attempt to manipulate your beliefs, or your ideals,” he explained. A passing automobile honked— for no discernable reason, as is city life— making Carlisle jump, releasing a frightened yelp. “Goodness!”

He might be her Divine Guide, but he was still Carlisle. No wonder he had been in Accounting.

“My apologies, Miss Wilkes. That surprised me.” Placing a hand over his heart— an odd gesture, considering he seemed to be lacking a heart, in general— he sighed. “I digress. If you believe in yourself, your beliefs, and your ideals, then you should not fall under Mister Dods’ influence.”

Well, that was Dods taken care of. But what about those mobsters?

They were able to break into Walker’s Inn while she was in there. They didn’t seem to work for him, in any case, judging by his reaction.

_ “You get outta here, ‘less you wanna die!” _

“Oh, Miss Wilkes?” Carlisle peeped, breaking her out of her thoughts. Beaming at her, he asked, “Would you mind if I excused myself for just a moment?”

“Go ahead.”

With no shortage of confusion, she watched as Carlisle ducked into the nearby shop, a milliner. He must have been looking for a new hat— which, again, seemed odd to Theo, seeing as how he could probably just use some divine magic to get a new one.

She was uncomfortably hatless, after her initial run-in with the mobsters. The mobster that Walker had disarmed— a-ha— had stolen her hat in all the hubbub, and she didn’t pack a replacement. With the financial situation she was in, she wasn’t comfortable with buying a new one.

Even if The Entity  _ had _ absolved her  _ debts of a financial nature. _ She still had to think about the future.

Of course, there was always credit, but she just couldn’t see that working out well for her.

The door to the shop opened, and Carlisle emerged, carrying a striped hat box.

“Get what you needed?” Theo asked with a smile, thankful for an ounce of normality in her life once again. Hat shopping was just the break she needed— and she wasn’t even the one doing the shopping.

“Indeed, I did, Miss Wilkes.” Handing the box to her, he beamed. “For you.”

“For—?” she gaped, taking the box into her hands. Eyes sparkling, she looked up at him, fighting off a fit of giddy, schoolgirl giggles. With one of the most genuine smiles she had had in  _ months _ , she bounced in place, fighting off every urge to jump and throw her arms around him.

She hadn’t even opened the package yet.

Untying the ribbon with the utmost care, she held her breath as she removed the top of the box. Carlisle held out his hand to take it from her, and once she passed the lid to him, she got to see the hat in all of its beautiful glory.

Delicate flowers decorated the front, with a large bow adorning the side. It fit her current outfit  _ perfectly _ , completing an otherwise-lacking ensemble.

“It’s beautiful, Carlisle, thank you.” With trembling hands, she passed the box to him, gingerly placing the hat on her head. “How does it look?”

“You look absolutely radiant, Miss Wilkes,” he said softly, a gentle smile gracing his features. Tucking the hatbox under his arm, he held out his free hand to her, his smile spreading to his eyes when she laced their fingers together.

“You mean the hat, right?” she chuckled, bowing her head and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“The hat  _ is _ rather nice, however, I must admit that I only see it as an accessory.” Squeezing her hand, just once, just for a nanosecond, he smiled at her when she raised her eyes to his. “You are the one who completes it, Miss Wilkes. Not the other way around.”

Her heart squeezed in her chest, a fluttering lightness passing through her ribs. Her eyes were sparkling as she looked up at him, his head framed by a halo of morning light.

“Come along, Miss Wilkes,” he smiled. “You are quite the sight this morning. I daresay, perfect for seeing Mister Dods. He will hardly know what to do with himself, faced with such radiant beauty as yours.”

With each compliment, Theo’s face grew warmer, the heat creeping down her neck, and bleeding into her ears.

“You’re making me blush, Carlisle, you flatterer,” she half-laughed, although she was reveling in it.

“Oh, but these are not empty words, Miss Wilkes. I do truly, wholeheartedly respect and admire you.”

Theo averted her gaze, knowing she was about as red as a ripe tomato. Squeezing his hand, she said nothing more as they continued to walk down the street, her heart fluttering about in her chest like a trapped bird.

Having mentally prepared herself for the absolute worst circumstances that could have been thrown her way, Theo shouldn’t have been surprised by Dods’ place of business. However, the exact opposite happened, as it tends to in the case of this woeful protagonist.

After all, the narrator really had it out for her.

Theo, however, did not have time to curse this nameless, faceless narrator that found a sick sort of joy in making her life as miserable as possible, because she was in  _ awe _ . For the first time since this dreadful quest began, she was in  _ awe _ of the creditor’s den.

There she stood, before Philadelphia’s most pristine, high-end department store. Its facade even rivalled some of the big name department stores in New York. The windows held more merchandise than she thought possible, society’s best clothes and home goods on sale for exorbitant prices.

She was speechless, to say the least.

“Are you ready, Miss Wilkes?” he asked, although lacking his previous cheer.

“I suppose so, but…” she trailed off, glancing at him, her brows furrowed. “Are you okay? You look a little… pale.”

He tittered, and fanned himself. He  _ did _ look a little clammy; sweat dotted his forehead, but he was horribly pallid, looking a little green, even.

“I am hardly accustomed to this plane, I am afraid,” he sighed slightly, as if to minimize his misery. “The weather, in particular. I think it is starting to make me a little ill.”

She didn’t know he could be affected by the weather. It made sense, and the summer heat and humidity of the East Coast was hardly anything to scoff at. She had lived with it for her entire life, and did rather well, considering, but she could see how it would be a bit much for others.

“Maybe while I’m in there, you should go to a diner or something. Get some cold water, and rest.”

“Thank you, Miss Wilkes… I may do just that,” he smiled apologetically. “I apologize for being so unreliable.”

“Not at all! You’re not feeling well, that’s not your fault!” she protested. “Go, and rest. I’ll be okay.”

He smiled, more reminiscent of a drooping tulip than of the shining sun he usually was.

“Thank you, Miss Wilkes. Best of luck to you.”

Taking a deep breath, she nodded one last time to Carlisle, and pushed the doors open, marching into the lobby, her heels clicking against the floor, echoing around her.

It was just as pristine on the inside as it was on the outside.

After Robertson and Walker, she was both pleasantly surprised and all the more cautious. Maybe those two were just up front about their intentions, and didn’t bother to hide themselves behind fancy facades, and shining marble floors, and expensive-looking interior decor, and well-maintained furniture.

Or maybe those two were just disgusting.

Theo would never learn the answer.

“Welcome!” a woman chirped, striding over towards Theo in an immaculately put-together ensemble, from head to toe. It couldn’t possibly be her work outfit, it was far too lavish. “How can I help you this fine day?”

Her smile never budged from her porcelain features, each and every red curl having its perfect place on her perfect head. If The Entity was capable of having children—

—  _ don’t insult me, pet _ —

— well, Theo couldn’t help but think that this woman would resemble her in quite a few ways. The biggest flaw with that theory, of course, was that— despite all indications to otherwise— this woman was (at  _ some _ point in time) entirely human.

It was all in the eyes.

“Um—” Theo faltered, managing a polite  _ I’d hate to bother you, despite this being your occupation _ type of smile. “I’m looking for Mister Dods.”

This form of introduction had never worked in the past, so she wasn’t entirely sure why she even bothered—

“Oh, but of course! Please, follow me.” The woman cocked her head to one side, her polite, tight-lipped smile never once falling from her marionette face. She turned, and began walking, her perfect posture indicative of a life of nobility.

A shudder passed through Theo’s spine as soon as the woman’s eyes left her.

“And what name shall I give to Mister Dods?” she asked, half-turning her head over her shoulder.

“Theo— er, Theodora Wilkes. I think he was expecting me.”

“Oh!!” the woman cried, spinning around, her bright, unnaturally pale green eyes sparkling as they landed on Theo’s face. “ _ You’re _ Miss Wilkes!”

Her lilting voice echoed off of the marble walls, filling every crevasse with Theo’s surname.

“What?” another voice chirruped from behind her.

“It  _ can’t _ be! It just  _ can’t _ be!” shrieked another from the far end of the room.

“ _ The _ Miss Wilkes?” yet another squeaked, nearly drowned out by the sound of three sets of kitten heels  _ click-clacking _ against the marble floors. They didn’t  _ run _ , per se, but probably came as close as propriety would let them.

They converged around Theo before she could properly collect herself, surrounded by three more assistants. As soon as she saw the second, her brows furrowed before her eyes flashed to the third, and then the fourth.

With the exception of their hair color, they all looked  _ exactly the same. _ Same tight-lipped, polite, concierge smile, same thin, pencilled eyebrows, same accessories, same clothes…  _ everything _ .

And yet, despite their best efforts, the blatant similarities only emphasized their patchwork differences. The features that cosmetics couldn’t change— the shape of one’s nose, the thickness of another’s neck, the sharpness of one’s cheekbones, or the sunken nature of another’s eyes.

If someone asked four strangers to do everything in their power to present themselves as identical, Theo was convinced  _ this _ would be the result. They looked almost like sisters… if they had four different fathers, and four different mothers.

“I  _ adore _ your hat. Where did you get it?” said the blonde.

“And your dress! It is just  _ darling!”  _ squeaked the brunette.

“Oh, but those  _ shoes _ are to  _ die _ for!” swooned the redhead.

“Your necklace is just  _ beautiful _ !” sighed the auburn.

Theo couldn’t get the  _ thank you’ _ s out fast enough as the women crowded around her, oohing and aahing over every aspect of her outfit. They showered her with compliments, their cacophony echoing off of the walls, overwhelming her, making her dizzy.

“I’m— I’m  _ really _ grateful, but I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a hurry—”

“Nonsense! Miss Wilkes, you are in the best department store in Philadelphia!” the redhead clucked. “You came all the way from New York— you should take this opportunity to improve your wardrobe!”

“Dolly, look at the poor thing! You’re stifling her!” said the brunette.

“I just need to see Mister—”

“How  _ rude _ of me! Let me start at the beginning, Miss Wilkes. My name is Dolly.”

“I’m Dotty,” chimed the blonde.

“I’m Dorothy,” cooed the brunette.

“And I’m Drusilla,” chirped the auburn.

“It’s nice to meet you!” they chorused, all four of their distinctly identical voices blending into one another. Identical smiles graced their unnaturally identical features, four masks that had been carefully curated for this exact scenario.

“Nice to meet you, too…” Theo managed, eyes wandering from one assistant to the other.

“Now, please, Miss Wilkes, follow me!” Drusilla— or, wait… maybe Dotty— offered.

The women turned in tandem, every minute detail of their postures and mannerisms mimicked across the four of them. As they walked, with Theo awkwardly trailing behind, they continued to chatter, their voices thick with a well-practiced and oft-used Transatlantic accent.

“We are Mister Dods’  _ personal  _ assistants,” boasted Dorothy. Right? Dorothy was the…? Or maybe she was the…? They had introduced themselves so quickly that Theo had already lost track of which one was which.

“Yes. It is quite a favorable position to be in,” bragged Drusilla… or so Theo thought. In actuality, it was Dorothy.

Not to be confused with Dotty, whose full name was  _ also _ Dorothy.

“Naturally, he has chosen the best of the best to fill such an important position,” beamed Dolly. Right? Dolly was the blonde? Or was  _ that _ Drusilla?

“Much better than some of the others,” babbled… um… Theo wasn’t sure. Drusilla?

She couldn’t help it. That was the most distinct name. She just kept coming back to it.

It was not Drusilla. It was Dolly.

A scrawny, bespectacled man scurried towards the group, holding what looked like a portfolio. He had the face of a man who had never gotten far in life— particularly socially. His face practically screamed  _ I’m lonely!! All alone!! Someone, please talk to me!! I’ll appreciate you until I decide to feel superior!! That’s the reason I’m alone, but I’ll never admit it!! _

Some people are open books.

“Excuse me, miss,” he sniffed, pushing his spectacles up his nose. Of course, if he straightened his back, they wouldn’t be falling off of his nose to begin with. “I heard this is— ah— Miss Wilkes? That is Mister Dods’ important client, yes?”

A tangible chill fell over the four women, all four of their heads snapping towards the miserable little man simultaneously.

“Yes. It is,” they hissed in unison, their voices laced with arsenic, strychnine, cyanide, and ricin, respectively.

The man— surprisingly— stood his ground in the face of the four identical gorgons.

_ Definitely related to The Entity _ , Theo thought, before cutting herself off with,  _ no, that’s quite ridiculous, I must say. They look nothing like me. _

Odd.

“Well,” he sneered, his light green eyes flashing as he pushed his spectacles farther up his nose, the glass reflecting the lights above. “I would think that I am the best possible guide for her, wouldn’t you agree?”

“ _ Agree?” _ sputtered Dotty, not to be confused with Dorothy, which Theo did. Theo believed that it had been Dorothy, and, to a degree, she had been correct.

“Why would  _ we _ agree with the likes of  _ you _ ?” snarled Dolly— Theo was  _ sure _ that it was her. She was right, for once.

“Come along, Miss Wilkes!” snapped Dorothy, not Dotty, and not Drusilla— or maybe—?

Whatever.

“We will not allow you to come close to Mister Dods’  _ illustrious, gifted,  _ and  _ wonderfully charismatic _ client!” Dolly declared, delicately placing a hand to her chest. “ _ We _ wish to assist her.”

“Which means—” 

“— the worms—”

_ “— can mind—” _

**_“_ ** _ —  _ **_their own business.”_ **

Without another word, the four of them circled around Theo, wordlessly urging her in the direction of the back. None of them looked at her, all four of their glittering green eyes focused on the small man, who shrank underneath their venomous, collective gazes.

Theo shot him one more look over her shoulder, just in time to see his mousy features warp into a vicious snarl.

_ Bitch, _ he spat, his voice inaudible.

But she knew that was what he said.

The gorgons continued to shove Theo towards the back of the lobby, never uttering a single word. Their perfectly-manicured, oval nails dug into her shoulders. Any harder, and they could break the skin.

After a minute of tense silence, only broken by the scraping of Theo’s heels against the marble floors, they finally reached a spacious room, decorated with large mirrors and ornate chairs. Once they reached the center of the room, the women finally recovered from their aggressive episode.

“Well, then!” Dorothy clapped. No— wait— this was Dolly. That’s right. “Shall we begin your fitting, Miss Wilkes?”

“Fitting?” she gaped. “No, no! I just need to talk to Mister Dods—”

“All in due time, Miss Wilkes!” Dolly smiled, tight-lipped, polite but pushy. Forcing Theo to sit in one of the chairs, she loomed over her, still smiling, but without a trace of kindness. “For now, I believe you should indulge a bit. Perhaps buy yourself a new dress?”

“Or new shoes?”

“Or a new hat?”

“Or a new blouse!”

One by one, they surrounded Theo as she sat in the chair, popping up on her right, her left, and in front of her, leaving her no room to breathe. With polite, twisted smiles, they stared at her, their green eyes bright in the already-bright room.

The room itself wasn’t dim, but with all four of them staring at her like that, they almost seemed to leech the light from the surroundings.

“You deserve good things, don’t you, Miss Wilkes?” Drusilla smiled, baring her fangs for the first time, her canines sharper than a human’s should be. Her drawn-on eyebrows almost made it seem like she was capable of sympathy, but the look in her eyes begged to differ.

Dorothy leaned her head on the chair’s arm, smiling up at Theo with the same pseudo-sympathetic, vampiric expression.

“Did you see what those others were wearing when we were in the lobby? They looked good, didn’t they?  _ You  _ could look even  _ better _ than them, Miss Wilkes, if you just let us help you.”

Before, Theo had had a hard time keeping all of the names to the faces, but now, she was  _ overly _ aware of which one was speaking to her.

Dotty mimicked Dorothy, leaning her head on the left chair arm.

“Those peons think they’re so hot, don’t they, Miss Wilkes? You’re a classy lady. You could take everything they have, and  _ appreciate _ it.”

“You’re one of those ladies, aren’t you, Miss Wilkes?” Dolly cooed, leaning her head forward, looming over Theo. “One of those ladies that can appreciate the finer things in life.”

“Unlike them.” Drusilla placed her hands on Theo’s knees, an impossible weight coming from her iron grip.

“They think they’re so much better than you.” Dorothy grabbed Theo’s right wrist.

“But that’s not true, is it, Miss Wilkes?” Dotty grabbed her left wrist.

“ _ You’re _ better than  _ them _ .” Finally, Dolly’s hands closed around Theo’s shoulders, pinning her to her spot.

“Whatever you’re trying, it’s not going to work!” Theo protested, writhing in their grips.

“Oh, honey,” Dolly cooed.

“We  _ always _ get what we want,” Dorothy smirked.

“No matter what the cost,” Drusilla smiled.

_ “Even if we have to kill our twin sisters to take back what belonged to us.” _

_ “Or seduce our friend’s husbands to get the life that we rightfully deserved.” _

_ “Or poison our own parents to get the estate that we wanted.” _

_ “Because we’re better than them, and we deserve to have good things to reflect that.” _

“No— you’re wrong—”

_ “Are we?” _

_ “Or are you just lying to yourself?” _

_ “You’ve fought hard, Theodora. You ought to treat yourself kindly.” _

“This isn’t kindness—”

_ “Or maybe your definition of kindness is just horribly outdated.” _

Were they speaking anymore? Or were they just in her head? She couldn’t tell. Their voices were all that she could hear, reverberating in the space around her, rattling around in her mind.

_ “You want it, don’t you?” _

_ “Stop fighting us, Theodora.” _

“No, wait, girls,” Dolly paused, leaning back, momentarily breaking the spell. “Let us remember who we are dealing with.”

“Oh…” Dotty mused, her gleaming smile widening.

“You’re right, Dolly, dear,” Dorothy grinned.

_ “You don’t want material things, do you?” _

_ “No, that was never it.” _

_ “But perhaps that part that your father gave to that other girl—” _

_ “The one who didn’t deserve it.” _

**_“The one you had worked so hard for.”_ **

_ “She didn’t deserve it, did she, Theodora?” _

_ “No… she didn’t.” _

**_“You did.”_ **

_ “I did…” _

_ “What does she know?  _ **_She had barely been in the troupe for three months.”_ **

_ “Yeah…” _

_ “Or maybe that young man that fixed the lights.” _

_ “He always thought of you as a little sister, and nothing more, didn’t he?” _

_ “Henry…” _

_ “He liked that young woman, too. Thought she was prettier than you.” _

_ “She couldn’t make him happy, could she, Theodora?” _

_ “No, she couldn’t. She didn’t.” _

**_“But he still didn’t want you.”_ **

_ “He would rather spend time with those  _ **_other_ ** _ actresses. Those trollops.” _

_ “I could have made him happy. What could  _ **_she_ ** _ do that I couldn’t?” _

_ “And now… that fine young man you are traveling with.” _

**_“He won’t want you, either, Theodora.”_ **

_ “No… Carlisle?” _

_ “Y e s . . . ” _

**_“C A R L I S L E . . ._ ** _ ” _

_ “He could be speaking to other women right now, Theodora.” _

_ “How do you know he  _ **_isn’t?”_ **

He could be talking to someone else. He could be smiling at someone else. He could be telling someone else that they look radiant. They could be smiling back at him. He could be oblivious to  _ their  _ advances. He could be leading them on, never knowing that he was  _ hers _ , that he was  _ her _ Divine Guide. He could fall head over heels for  _ them _ , just because he doesn’t know any better. He could look at  _ them _ like they were his moon and stars, and never know the difference. He would never know.  _ He would never know! _ He would call their name in the same sweet way he called her—

_ “Miss Wilkes.” _

Theo came to her senses with a start.

Carlisle wouldn’t do that. And even if he  _ did _ — so what? He wasn’t human; she was already convinced that any relationship that  _ could _ come from their journey together wouldn’t be a lasting one.

“You’re wrong,” she growled, raising her eyes to meet Drusilla’s glowing, green gaze, and vampiric smile.

“What?” she croaked, her smile faltering for only a moment, keeping itself stitched into her features by a thin, fraying thread.

“You’re  _ wrong _ ,” Theo repeated, her voice lowering into the same venomous tone that they had spent an unfathomable amount of time perfecting.

Wrenching her hands away from Dotty and Dorothy, she stood up, freeing herself from their hold over her. With a glare as sharp as a treasured dagger, she advanced on Drusilla, her hands shaking as they closed into fists.

“You’re  _ pathetic _ ,” Theo spat. “Using my failures against me— you make me  _ sick _ .”

“Wait— Miss Wilkes—” Drusilla gasped, back-pedaling as far as the room would allow. As she pressed herself against the mirror, Theo began rolling up her sleeve.

“Miss Wilkes!”

“Miss Wilkes, please! She did not mean to offend—!”

“Please, Miss Wilkes!”

Before Theo could teach Drusilla a lesson— Manhattan-style— three sets of hands grabbed her arms, and pulled her back.

“Let me  _ go!!” _ Theo roared, thrashing about in the arms of the gorgons. They held her steady, subduing her… for the moment.

Drusilla approached, the lights in the room flickering, although her eyes made up for any light lost. A dark laugh bubbled out of her, the siren song of a dangerous woman.

“You really thought you were better than us, didn’t you, you little whelp?” she sneered. “We told you. We are the  _ best _ of the best.”

“Yeah— fat lot of good that it’s done you, ending up  _ here _ .”

Grabbing her chin, Drusilla jerked her forward, her polite smile fading from her visage.

“We have  _ immortality _ . What do you have? A tacky, little hat from a tacky, little Divine Guide that will leave you in a month.”

Her words stung. Theo knew that they were— to a certain degree— true, but that didn’t mean she had to accept it. She knew her own worth. She knew she was no better, and no worse, than those around her.

People are people. Their actions formed their worth in her mind, not the clothes they wore, nor the jobs they had, nor the amount of money they could put away in a bank.

Even in comparison to Drusilla, or Dotty, or Dorothy, or Dolly…

Her anger began to fade. It didn’t disappear entirely— no, they weren’t worthy of her  _ forgiveness _ — but, instead, was slowly replaced by pity.

“You have immortality,” she paused, looking into Drusilla’s face, “and for what? To live as a sad copy of who you once were?”

“You—!”

“You have immortality— but you’re  _ squandering _ it! Your soul is  _ gone _ , feeding these creditors—”

“Silence—!”

“No! I will  _ not _ be silent!” Theo yelled, her voice echoing off of the marble in the building, holding much more strength than before. “I  _ have _ my soul. I  _ have _ my autonomy! Between an eternity of assisting one of these monsters, and my own mortality— I’d rather face death  _ any day _ than live like  _ this! _ ”

The women’s hands loosened, only slightly, as Drusilla gaped at her. One by one, they began to step away, averting their gazes, folding their arms across their chests, their stomachs… hugging themselves.

How long had it been since they had felt the warmth of another person?

Had they ever truly known it?

Glancing around the group of women, Theo saw shattered remnants of the people they once had been. Petty, shallow people, whose only source of emotional gratification was being better than others. The ones who had been told their entire lives that they were never good enough— so once they had an inch, they took a mile.

The weight of the world had been on them, and they had crumpled.

“I’m sorry this has happened to you,” Theo muttered, still bitter. She wasn’t ready to forgive  _ them _ — probably never would be— but she was sorry that they had ended up there, all the same. “I hope you can have your peace someday.”

The women didn’t say anything. They didn’t even look at her.

“Bravo,” a sneering, sniveling voice called out from the far edge of the room. Spinning in place, Theo locked eyes with a thin man, matchsticks tied together with barbed wire. “Truly, bravo, Miss Wilkes. You stirred my heart.”

“You’re Mister Dods, I take it?”

“Come,” he tutted, turning on his heel and marching away. “We shall discuss your contract in my office. I have no need for wasted time.”

He was leaving, whether she followed him or not. Stirring herself into a light jog, she tried to keep up with him, but his long, grasshopper legs made it difficult. Behind Theo, she heard four sets of heels following them, although keeping a steady distance.

Shooting the women a look over her shoulder, she realized they were still ignoring her.

“If you could  _ refrain  _ from unionizing my most loyal assistants, Miss Wilkes,” Dods growled, his voice reminiscent of a high-society, Rockefeller-type.

“... Right. Sorry.”

She had no idea what he was talking about, but found herself apologizing, nonetheless. She didn’t  _ want _ to, however, the creditors really brought out the long-lost etiquette in her.

It was part of that  _ stealing her soul _ bit that they all had going. Better to suffer through being polite than to be the  _ second _ Wilkes buried in a month.

Finally, they reached Dods’ office. Once he reached the door, he shot Theo a nasty look over his shoulder, not even bothering to properly look at her.

“Fetch me my measuring tape, would you?” he sneered, as if she should have already done so, and was therefore in the wrong by not reading his mind.

“ _ Excuse _ me?” she snapped.

“Not you, you idiotic girl.” Snapping his fingers once, his grating voice screeched,  _ “Dorothy!” _

“Yes, sir,” she whimpered, before scampering off, the echo of her heels marking her location, no matter how far she strayed.

“Come in, Miss Wilkes. We shall settle this.”

Theo stepped into his office, followed by the remaining three gorgons. Dorothy’s clacking heels were approaching once more, and, in no time at all, she stepped into the office, as well.

Dods’ office was just as immaculate as the rest of the building. Every minor detail had its place, with the distinct, gut feeling that if any of those details were somehow disturbed from their places, there would be immeasurably painful consequences.

Theo also had the sinking feeling that none of these details were particularly  _ important _ to Dods, nor did they hold any sentimental value, however, touching them would result in an immediate condemnation of her soul. They were clean, and well taken care of, but lacked the certain “lived in” feelings that sentimental trinkets had.

Each and every one seemed to be a show of status, some minor display of triumph, from one corner of the room to the next. Trophies, degrees, an extensive library of books in foreign languages, gadgets from laboratories, a collection of skulls from rare animals, artifacts from ancient cultures, and all manner of pretentious collectables.

Not a single one held any sort of sentimental value.

“Stand before the mirror,” Dods grumbled, snapping his fingers at her, as one would command a dog to sit. Theo gave shot a completely unladylike glare towards his back, but made her way to the circular rug before the three mirrors in the corner of the room. “Take her measurements.”

“Yes, sir,” the gorgons chimed, taking their respective positions at Theo’s appendages.

“Wait, wait, wait—!” Theo cried. “I don’t want anything! There’s no reason to take my measurements!”

“Never you mind that, Miss Wilkes,” Dods grumbled again, circling around to his desk to pick up a deck of cards. Shuffling them, he eyed her, completely unimpressed by what he saw standing before him. His face warped into a sour frown that practically screamed  _ who let this whelp run amok in public? _

Theo’s cheeks flushed with shame under his scrutinizing glare.

“Leg out, please,” Dotty murmured. Theo obeyed, scowling at Dods.

“I’m not here to shop. I’m here to break the contract you’ve made with my father.”

“Yes, yes,” he chided as he approached her. Glancing at Dolly, he snapped his fingers once more. She scampered off, and returned with a silver tray, which she held without complaint. Dods placed the deck on the tray, and tapped it twice. “Take two.”

“How do you want to do this?” she scowled, taking two cards and glancing at them. A 7 of Spades and a Queen of Hearts.

“We will play 21 for five rounds. If you win more than three rounds, then the contract is broken. Otherwise, you will be obligated to fulfill it.”

A distant wail broke Theo out of her focus. Glancing over her shoulder, for just a brief moment, she felt a shudder building in the base of her spine.

Something was wrong. Unlike her first two run-ins with creditors, it wasn’t Dods that was setting off alarms in her head. Rather… there was something about the building, something that she knew she should be paying attention to.

“Will you draw, Miss Wilkes?”

“What?” she stammered, collecting herself. “No… sorry. I’ll, uh… hold.”

_ Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong— _

“21.”

Dods placed the perfect combination down on the tray: an Ace of Spades, and a King of Spades. He’d already won one round.

Theo’s head was swimming, every alarm going off, rattling her brain. She could feel the anxiety creeping up the back of her neck, drilling thousands of little holes in her skull, making her light-headed.

“Other leg out, please,” Drusilla murmured, tapping her leg. Theo obliged, shooting another look over her shoulder.

It was silent. And yet, that made it worse.

“17,” she sighed, placing her cards on the discard pile, and drawing two more.

“What a curious woman you are, Miss Wilkes,” Dods mused, his voice tinged with disdain. “Of course, your father was just as curious, if not moreso.”

“What do you mean by that?” she frowned, glancing down at her cards. Not great. A 3 of Hearts and a 6 of Diamonds.

“Nothing is meant by it. It is simply an observation.” His eyes scanned his own cards, his hardened, aged poker face refusing to budge. “I must wonder what The Entity has in mind, if she is sending a mortal woman on a journey such as this. Usually, she would be the one to address any anomalies, however…” he trailed off, clicking his tongue, and drawing a card. “Oh, never you mind.”

“No— wait… what do you mean?” Theo asked, despite the nagging feeling in her core. “Do you know something about The Entity?”

As those words left her mouth, she felt a presence behind her, staring at her with wide, unblinking eyes. However, when she checked, she found that no one was standing there.

… Odd.

“The Entity and I have had our disagreements in the past, I will be the first to admit.” Dods drew one card, his expression remaining as stoic as always. “However, I do not deny that she is my superior, and therefore, do not question her authority more than necessary.”

Dods’ icy gaze flicked up to meet Theo’s eyes, before he tapped the deck with his gloved finger.

Theo drew one card— a King of Diamonds— then stopped.

“Although, I must wonder… what is she planning? The last time she sent a mortal on a quest like this… well…” he trailed off again.

“‘Well’?”

“Your predicament is highly unprecedented, Miss Wilkes. Never has a soul been owed to all  _ seven _ of us— although, you have successfully lowered that number to  _ five _ . How clever.”

It wasn’t a compliment.

Dods revealed his cards. Two Eights, and a 2 of Spades.

“18.”

“19,” she breathed, feeling an  _ ounce _ of relief.

They started a new round. Theo had a  _ fabulous _ hand this time— a Jack of Clubs, and a Queen of Diamonds.

_ Something is still wrong. _

“What happened the last time The Entity sent someone on a quest like this?” she pushed, staring at Dods with every gram of will in her body.

He drew once, twice… and then a  _ third _ time. And yet, he did not fold.

“It was quite the scandal. Those in charge— beings that your mortal brain could never begin to comprehend, mind you— accused The Entity of attempting to bring about…” he trailed off, waving his hand vaguely. “Call it what you will. The apocalypse, the Rapture, Ragnarok… humanity has far too many names for the same cataclysmic event.”

Her hand dropped to her side.

“The  _ apocalypse… _ ?”

She was being  _ used _ ? She couldn’t help but think that that  _ must _ be the case. It was so obvious now, if she looked at her situation, and the opportunity The Entity had given her… hadn’t it all been too convenient?

She had paid for Theo’s debts. She had insisted that Theo go on this quest, collect these rings from these creditors… and for what? For a problem that—  _ surely _ — she could have solved on her own with a snap of her fingers.

By doing this quest for The Entity, what was she agreeing to? What if The Entity needed these rings to unlock some sort of ancient, hidden power? To truly begin the end of the world? Would  _ Theo _ be the scapegoat? Would she be the one to blame for ending all of humanity?

She swayed, and the next thing she knew, she was on the ground, the room spinning as Dods and his four gorgons loomed over her. 

“Oh, dear.”

“Miss Wilkes?”

“Squeamish little thing, isn’t she?”

“Well, she  _ is _ only mortal.”

“Can hardly blame the poor dear.”

“It must be quite a shock, finding out that she’s an accessory to genocide.”

“Hm.”

Theo’s head continued to swim as she forced herself to sit up. Dods leaned over, and grabbed her cards.

“You win this round, Miss Wilkes.”

Grabbing him by the collar, she used Dods’ spindly body for leverage, pulling herself up to her knees.

“Tell me the truth, you monster,” she gulped. “Is that what The Entity is planning? Is she using your rings to end the world?”

With a sneer and a scoff, he removed Theo’s hands from his lapels. She dropped back to the cold, marble floor with a  _ slap _ , tears flooding her eyes.

“And what would you do if she was?” he asked, staring down the bridge of his nose at her. “End your fool’s errand?”

“If it meant saving  _ humanity _ —” she started, cutting herself off by clapping a hand over her mouth.

What was she  _ saying _ ?

When did this become so much bigger than her? Why did  _ her _ trouble have to drag other people into it?

Was it her fault?

What would happen if she simply refused to keep going? Who would get her first— the creditors, the mobsters, or The Entity?

Why would her father do this to her? Why would he let this happen?

Her shoulders slumped as she curled into herself, bowing her head in defeat. Dread weighed down upon her chest— the burden of a crisis that she could never have been prepared for.

All of this… because her father died.

“You understand now, don’t you?” Dods’ tense, nasally voice broke her out of her spiraling thoughts, for better or for worse. “If you do as The Entity asks, and collect all of the rings from the remaining creditors, then you are aiding— nay,  _ responsible _ for whatever nefarious plot she might be attempting to put into motion.”

_ It’s true _ , she thought, curling in on herself further.

“And yet, if you abandon the quest that she has laid before you… your soul is completely forfeit. You would hardly last a week.”

The lights dimmed and flickered, the buzzing of the electrical lights filling her head, consuming every thought whole.

_ Something is wrong. _

“The dwellers of the otherworld are not kind to wandering souls, Miss Wilkes. You could wish for death a thousand times over, scream until your tongue falls out, writhe until every bone in your body breaks through the skin… and they would  _ never _ let you go.” The mobster’s carnal, crazed grin flashed through her mind’s eye. “You are much safer with a creditor, working for eternity.”

“Oh, yes,” Dolly said.

“It’s true,” Dorothy soothed.

“We are very happy here, Miss Wilkes,” Dotty smiled.

“One day, you could even be worthy enough to be an assistant,” Drusilla sneered.

_ You’re really gonna lie there and take it? _ she thought, her mind heavy with self-reproach, still buzzing from the shock of it all.  _ You’re gonna sit there, and let them talk you into being one of them? _

Wouldn’t it be easier?

_ So what if it’s easier? You think anything done in this life is done because it’s easy?  _ **_They_ ** _ chose the easy path, and look where it got them. An eternity. A soulless eternity, working a soulless job, enticing more and more people to be just like you. _

_ Are you really content with that? _

She wasn’t.

_ Then pull yourself up by the bootstraps, and give them what for. There has to be another way. There’s  _ **_always_ ** _ another way. You just gotta find it. _

_ Or did your father raise a quitter? _

“Well, if you were to join today, I would consider you a special case. Perhaps a promotion in a decade, or two—”

“No,” she growled.

“What?” Dods hissed.

“ _ What?! _ ” the gorgons shrieked.

“I said  _ no _ .” Her hands curled into fists as she pushed herself to her feet. “Forget it. I’m not joining you.”

“Then you are truly content with condemning humanity?” A twisted sneer pulled at his sagging face, every wrinkle creating a crevasse in his visage. He wanted what others had, wanted the greener grass, and look where it got him— alone, with no one to be at his side but those gorgons he called assistants. “Perhaps you are better suited to working with Cain, then. I had no idea—”

“Enough,” she spat. “I refuse to listen to you anymore.”

“Ah…” he breathed, another vicious smile poisoning his features. “Vabsley, then.”

With an icy glare, her hand shot forward, drawing two more cards from the deck, the silver tray set upon a small end table. She was going to finish this, and she was going to finish it  _ now _ . An Eight and a Seven of Hearts. 15… it would be a push, but she could do it.

She would wait. It was possible that Dods would overdraw, and have no choice but to fold.

Now that she was coming back to her senses, she became acutely aware of a prickling along the back of her neck. Something wasn’t right, and it hadn’t been right for a while.

Dods drew from the deck.

“It seems Mister Walker had been correct,” Dods mused. Theo wanted to ignore him, but couldn’t help giving him a dirty look. He barely paid her any mind. “You have brought some unsavory visitors, it seems.”

Her stomach dropped.

_ It can’t be— _

A distant crash interrupted her thought, sending her heart into a gallop. Once again, Theo turned, focusing on the corridor outside of Dods’ door.

Something was wrong, and she had to get out of there.

_ Take your leave, Miss Wilkes. _

“What  _ is _ that?” Drusilla hissed, her voice muffled by the hand clapped over her mouth and nose.

“ _ That _ would be the stench of the otherworld,” Dods grumbled. Running footsteps echoed through the corridors as they spread out throughout the department store. One distinct thread of hissing laughter reached Theo’s ears, panic shocking her system. “Miss Wilkes.”

He said her name with so much purpose, it finally tore her eyes away from the corridor. Eyeing her with stern stoicism, he slipped the ring from his finger, and handed it to her.

“Take your leave, Miss Wilkes.”

“What—? But I didn’t—” she stammered.

“I forfeit. You win by default,” he frowned. “The contract is null. Our business is finished.  _ Get out, _ and take the riff-raff with you.” The ring pulsated in her palm, and she found her feet unable to move.  **_“Now!!”_ **

The gorgons pushed her, giving her the head start she needed. Gracelessly stumbling out of the office, she turned to her right, and immediately locked eyes with the one-armed mobster, about fifty feet away.

“There you are,” he grinned, chuckling.

“Oh, god—” she gasped, backing away. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw another door, clearly labeled  _ EXIT. _ Breaking into a sprint, she fervently pumped her arms as she ran, partially to give herself a boost in momentum, and partially to punch the hell out of anyone who got too close.

The EXIT opened before she could reach it— kicked in by a group of constables. The one in front pointed his baton at Theo.

**_“STOP IN THE NAME OF THE LAW!!”_ ** he roared, his thick Chicago accent  _ horribly _ misplaced, and jarring enough to bring Theo to a full, screeching halt.

Now the  _ cops _ were after her?! What was next?!

Cursing under her breath, she attempted to turn tail, but the momentum of her sprint did her more harm than good. She slipped on the marble floor, her leg slipping to the side like a newborn deer’s. Thundering footsteps stampeded behind her, practically shaking the foundation of the department store.

**_“YOU!”_ ** the constable in front roared, leaping forward. With a yelp, Theo pushed herself to her feet, and narrowly avoided his tackle. Having nowhere else to go, she ran straight for the mobster— who was  _ also _ running from the cops.

Theo was faster than him— despite all odds, really— and, once she kicked off her shoes, left him in the dust. She heard quite the commotion behind her— yells and curses and whoops and hollers— but she never once looked back.

Some of the constables were  _ still _ coming after her, and the mobster was hardly alone.

Everywhere she looked, there was either some assistant, some jaded customer with glazed-over eyes, a mobster, or a constable. She was  _ surrounded _ .

Hurdling over a half-wall, she finally spotted the lobby doors. If she could make it outside, she could get away— she knew it, she just  _ knew _ ! She just had to find Carlisle!

An assistant lunged for her, and narrowly avoided her, tackled, instead, by one of the mobsters, then by a constable. Theo, in a rather impressive show of dexterity, avoided all three of the falling bodies, and slipped out the front doors.

She did not go undetected.

“Get back here!” a mobster growled, animalistic, practically feral. Clawing at her, and catching hold of her dress, he tried to drag her back. Theo turned and— in quite a cathartic motion— punched him, right in the kisser.

She had been wanting to get  _ that _ out of her system for the past half an hour.

The mobster reared back, yelping in pain, and letting go of her. It was just enough to give her a head start.

Unfortunately, the peace didn’t last.

“There she is!”

To her left, a group of mobsters.

**_“YOU LOT! STOP IN THE NAME OF THE LAW!!”_ **

To her right, a group of constables.

Theo took off running, her eyes flashing forward. There, holding his hand out to her, was Carlisle, panic written into his features. She ran for him, reaching forward, her eyes never leaving his.

“Give up the girl, clod!!” a mobster snarled, but Theo could hardly hear him.

Over the din of the mobsters, over the din of the constables, and over the din of the city, Carlisle’s voice reached for her as he called out, louder than he had ever called anyone before,

**_“THEO!!”_ **

Her heart lightened, the burden of the information she learned draining from her body, leaving her as light as air. She ran faster, an angelic, relieved smile blooming on her face as she reached for Carlisle, and took his outstretched hand.

They took off running.


	5. Carlisle Adamson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of my dear readers!! ^^
> 
> The song for this chapter is "Grit, Sweat, and Love"! I hope you enjoy!

It hardly mattered to Theo that she was being chased by otherworldly mobsters and constables. It hardly mattered that Dods had forfeit his match, and she had gotten the ring by default. It hardly mattered that it was hot as sin, and disgustingly humid.

No, none of that mattered.

_ He called me Theo, _ she thought as she ran, feeling as light as air as Carlisle held onto her hand, guiding her through the streets of Philadelphia. His strong hand was the only thing tethering her to the mortal plane, she was so wrapped up in the bliss of finally hearing her name in that melodic voice of his.

_ “Get back here!” _

_ “GET BACK HERE, IN THE NAME OF THE LAW!” _

She could barely hear them. She wouldn’t have cared, even if she did. All that mattered was that he said her name, which meant… he loved her, right? He said it himself: Divine Guides only referred to their clients by their given names if they fell in love.

A man like Carlisle… in love with  _ her _ ?

“Wow…” she breathed, completely oblivious to the fact that Carlisle pulled them down a side street, and into a hiding spot under a stack of wooden crates. Ushering her in, he followed, both of them having to kneel on the ground in order to fit.

“In here, Miss Wilkes—”

Her reverie shattered.

What was this  _ Miss Wilkes _ nonsense? They had already crossed that threshold! He had called her  _ Theo! _ He couldn’t just  _ go back! _

She was fully prepared to contest this point, just as she had contested her contracts with the creditors, but as soon as she opened her mouth, he gently placed his hand over it, silently pleading with her.

He was leaning over her, protecting her, a few disheveled strands of hair plastered to his forehead. Removing his hand from her mouth, he mouthed  _ please _ , every shape that his lips made calling to her.

She knew it was the worst time, and the worst place, but  _ heavens _ , she wanted to kiss him.

Thundering footsteps quickly interrupted that train of thought. Theo couldn’t tell if she was  _ thankful _ that they did, or absolutely  _ livid _ . Although, after being  _ Miss Wilkes’ _ ed again, she was sure it was the former. She could dodge  _ that  _ bullet for now.

The first set raced by, the mobsters’ hissing laughter following them wherever they went, filling the side street, echoing off of the walls. Their laughter practically had a life of its own.

Carlisle leaned closer, his breath hitting her lips.

Looking up, her eyes flitted over his divine features, his dark hair, his striking blue eyes. Before she knew it, the mobsters’ steps were fading away, and she was reaching up, cupping his cheek in her hand.

He started, only slightly, before he relaxed. Placing his hand over hers, he leaned into the touch, a peaceful, wistful smile gracing his features as he gazed at her.

The second set of steps stampeded through the side street, leaving just as quickly as they came.

Silence weighed upon the two of them, stuck under those crates, their lips only mere inches apart like a couple of lovestruck teenagers.

Retracting her hand with a jarringly awkward motion, she sputtered slightly, leaning her head forward as she broke into a fit of relieved giggles. Perhaps the stress or the embarrassment were catching up to her, or perhaps the exhilaration, but she couldn’t stop giggling.

Leaning forward, she rested her head in the crook of his shoulder, covering her mouth in hopes of stifling her laughter. It was only half-successful.

“Miss Wilkes? Are you quite alright?” he asked, utterly perplexed.

“Yeah,” she sighed, the remaining tension leaving her body with a few remaining giggles. “Sorry about that. It was just the excitement, I guess.”

“As long as you are unhurt, then I am happy, Miss Wilkes,” he smiled. There it was again— she was being  _ Miss Wilkes’ _ ed. Before she could speak up, he poked his head out from their hiding spot, and gave her a radiant smile. “The danger has passed.”

Gentle and genteel, he held onto her hand as he guided her out.

“Who  _ were _ those men? The cops?” Theo asked, dusting herself off. “Are they like those mobsters that have been following us?”

“They are,” Carlisle frowned, his features darkening. “I would treat them with the same amount of caution as the other unfriendly bunch.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Fighting off a shudder, she cast a glance around the side street. “Then they’re working with the mobsters?”

He contemplated this for a moment.

“Not… entirely,” he said eventually. “They are not allied with one another, hence the kerfuffle in Dods’ store. However, that is quite advantageous for us. They should keep one another occupied for a time.”

Theo heaved a great sigh of relief. At least she could sicc them on one another, if she needed to.

Glancing up at Carlisle, she remembered, quite suddenly, that he had been ill just that very morning.

“Oh— are you feeling better now, Carlisle? Your color looks a little better, at least.”

“Oh,” he gasped, before giving her a radiant smile. “Yes, I am feeling much better, Miss Wilkes. Thank you.”

“What was wrong?” she asked, looping her arm through his as she walked in the opposite direction of the mobsters and constables, happy to make as much distance as possible. “If you know what caused it, maybe we can take steps to prevent it again. You looked ready to knock on death’s door, there.”

A sad smile pulled at his lips as he lowered his gaze. They emerged onto the main thoroughfare, however, oddly enough, it was as if no one else could see them. Theo felt completely, comfortably alone with him, the whole world melting away as she looked up into his face.

“In all honesty, Miss Wilkes…” he started, his voice solemn. “As this is my first time acting as a Divine Guide, I am not entirely acclimated to this plane’s atmosphere.” With the slightest of tugs, he pulled her closer to him, their hips brushing as they walked. “Usually, Divine Guides will not spend the entirety of their time with their client, however… I must admit, I have been so worried about you, I have been hesitant to leave your side.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the admission, but she shook her head, struggling to remain focused on the task at hand.

“But if it makes you sick to stay here for that long, then you can— I don’t know— take the nights off, or something of the sort.” Placing her hand on his arm, she smiled up at him, her heart sinking with the words she spoke. “If it keeps you safe, then it’s worth it, right? You don’t have to be with me every second of every day.”

It pained her to say it, but she couldn’t keep him there if it made him sick. He’d be little more than a caged bird for her to swoon and sigh over. Lowering her eyes, she watched her feet as she walked, her smile faltering before fading away entirely.

“I can’t do that to you.”

He didn’t say anything. For a moment, she thought he didn’t hear her, but then he lowered the arm her hand rested upon.

_ Oh, _ she thought, bitterness acting as stinging salt on her wounded ego.

That thought occurred to her  _ before _ he laced their fingers together, their hands joined at their side. Eyes flashing towards him, she was met with his warm, comforting smile.

“It is my honor, Miss Wilkes, to be at the side of a woman of your calibre,” he said, his voice dipping into a tone that was surprisingly husky. “That honor, and my duty as your Divine Guide, dictate the decisions I make. You are not holding me here by some force or coercion. I  _ choose _ to remain by your side.”

“But—” she protested weakly, her next words faltering on her tongue. After all, she wanted him to leave as much as it seemed he wanted to go.

“I insist, Miss Wilkes,” he urged, his voice smooth as silk and yet holding a deeper tone to it that she hadn’t noticed before. His eyes seemed to almost twinkle in the late morning light, softening when their gazes met. “My illness does not last long. One quick trip to the office, and I am as right as rain once more.”

She bit her lip in hopes of fighting off a smile.

“You’re sure?”

“I swear to you on my honor as a Divine Guide.” Giving her hand a small squeeze, he broke some of the tension with a polite titter. “After all, I am already much braver than I was when I first arrived. You have left quite the lasting impression on me.”

“You flatter me,” she chuckled, breathy and nervous. She only said it out of courtesy, but really, she wanted him to go on. Being part of a theatre troupe for so long, she hardly got  _ all _ the credit, so this was a welcome change.

“Oh, it is hardly flattery, Miss Wilkes!” He was practically sparkling as he continued, “I find myself to constantly be in awe of you, and your accomplishments! Here you are, facing off against seemingly-insurmountable dangers— dangers that concern your very  _ soul—  _ and you are facing them head-on, without even the slightest trace of hesitation in your step! You are amazing!”

Swinging their joined hands, she beamed at him, the very picture of adoration.

“None of that would be possible without you coming along with me, Carlisle. I would’ve been done for a  _ long _ time ago without you.”

“Then I suppose we are a great match.”

“Yeah,” she breathed, lowering her gaze as her face grew warmer, “I guess we are.”

Tossing her luggage on the bed like a full sack of potatoes, she unlocked the clasps, and rubbed her hands together. It was time to pack, and— for once— she wasn’t about to let Carlisle do it for her.

Not that it would be particularly difficult. She didn’t have many possessions, to begin with.

“Miss Wilkes, whatever are you doing?”

“I’m packing,” she blinked, her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

“Oh, dear…” he murmured, a guilty, faltering smile failing on his beautiful façade. “It seems I have forgotten to inform you…”

_ It’s a good thing you’re pretty, _ she thought, but didn’t voice, although she had the strangest sense that someone, somewhere, was laughing. Odd.

“What is it?” she voiced instead.

“Well… I thought, as you have been working so tirelessly to clear all of your debts, Miss Wilkes, that perhaps… we should take… a break? A little vacation, if you will,” he explained, wringing his hands together the entire time.

Theo stared at him, unblinking, with a perfectly unladylike expression on her face. It was a look of  _ are you kidding me, you absolute buffoon? _ Because, well, that was exactly what she was thinking.

Carlisle squirmed under her intense glare, breaking into a cold sweat because that was what was expected of him. Eventually, he let out a nervous titter.

“You see… our train ticket to Columbus is not until… the 26th… Miss Wilkes,” he explained sparsely, punctuating his words with nervous laughter. “We have a few days to perhaps… take a rest.”

Not totally convinced, Theo folded her arms across her chest, fixing him with an impatient stare.

“And what about those gangsters and cops? If we stick around, they’ll catch us in no time.”

“However… it seems they have already left the city,” he admitted, his color becoming quite poor again. “I no longer sense them, which makes me believe they have run each other out of city limits. As such, I believe we are safest here… for now.”

“And what are we supposed to do for the next three days?” she pressed, her patience wearing thin. “Twiddle our thumbs? Perhaps we should invite The Entity, and— oh, yes, how could I forget— ask her why she is planning the apocalypse!”

His eyes bulged out of their sockets. This time, it wasn’t a mere mimic of human emotion, it seemed to be genuine.

“Where did you get  _ that _ idea, Miss Wilkes?”

“From Dods! We were too busy running all over the city—”  _ And exchanging flirtations, _ she thought, derailing her train of thought. “We— uh— anyway, we were busy!” With a huff, she turned to her suitcase, slamming the lid shut.

Leaning her weight onto it, she heaved a great sigh. It had been an  _ exhausting _ few days, filled to the brim with complete emotional turmoil. She wanted this whole ordeal to be over and done with, so she could return to the  _ solely  _ corporeal world, where her only concern was making end’s meet, not having her soul ripped from her body.

She made a promise to herself that she would  _ never _ complain about rehearsal running late ever again. That was small potatoes compared to  _ this  _ mess.

The floor creaked under Carlisle’s feet as he approached her.

“You are angry with me,” he whimpered. “I apologize for taking this liberty, Miss Wilkes… I thought you could use the rest.”

She sighed again, this one deeper than the last.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Carlisle, but can’t you at least  _ tell me _ when you make these plans?” Finally, she looked up at him, only to jump back once she realized how close he was. Once again, tears were flooding his eyes as he gazed at her, his lip quivering.

“I apologize…” he whispered, his voice breaking. In a voice that was almost too quiet to hear—  _ almost _ — he managed to say, “I was only worried about you, Theo...”

Her name was a fleeting whisper this time, holding none of the strength that it had before, and yet, all the more impact.

Just like that, her anger dissipated.

“Listen— it’s…” she faltered, her words failing her. He  _ was _ just looking out for her, she couldn’t fault him for that. “Just… tell me next time. That’s all I’m asking.”

Drooping, he dropped his gaze, his lip still quivering. After a few moments of guilt-ridden silence, he finally nodded.

With an exasperated sigh, she clapped him on the shoulder.

“C’mon, Carlisle. Chin up.” A patient smile broke through her annoyed frown, much like the sun parting through the dreary clouds. The use of her given name had not gone unnoticed, and she found her smile growing wider. “You’re finally getting used to calling me by name, huh?”

He flinched, his eyes going as wide as a pair of saucers, his face turning a deep, deep shade of red. With a flustered series of gasps, he almost seemed hysterical as his mouth opened and closed, unable to form any words.

Eventually, he managed, “Whatever are you talking about, Miss Wilkes? I am aware of the instance in front of Dods’ store, but that was— that was only for the sake of brevity! I promise! I did not mean anything by it, Miss Wilkes—”

“Carlisle, Carlisle…” she soothed, taking his face in her hands, and bringing him close enough that he could only look at her. “It’s okay. I like it when you call me Theo.”

“Oh, but Miss Wilkes… it is so very improper for me to call my own client by their given name…”

_ Unless you’re in love with them, _ she thought. She was tempted to point it out, but didn’t want to force him to show his hand. It would only make the rest of the journey awkward— particularly if he wasn’t aware of his feelings… if he even had any.

“You called me Theo just now, though.” She was testing her luck, and she knew as much, but if she could get him to drop the whole  _ Miss Wilkes _ schtick, it would be worth it.

“I-I did?” he choked, his eyes wide with guilt. “I apologize— it must have been a slip of the tongue— oh, goodness gracious…” he muttered, turning away from her, breaking free of her grip. He wobbled to the far corner of the room, and crouched, burying his head in his hands. “To call my own client by her name in such an uncouth manner… I am a failure of a Divine Guide.”

Taking a seat next to him, she put her hand on his arm, giving him a reassuring smile when he finally looked at her.

“You’re not a failure.” Taking his hand, she enveloped it with both of her own. “And, if it makes you feel any better, it can be our little secret. No one has to know you called me by my given name.”

It pained her to make such an offer, but if it meant he could have some peace of mind, then it was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

“Miss Wilkes— are you certain?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. She nodded, and his face lit up. “Oh, thank you, Miss Wilkes!” he gasped, relieved and breathless. “May I— oh, please pardon me, but may I embrace you?”

Now it was Theo’s turn to have her eyes widen to the size of saucers. Of  _ course _ she was completely willing, it was just admitting as much! With a jerky, mechanical nod, she barely had time to prepare before Carlisle threw his arms around her, gracelessly tackling her to the ground.

Really, was he a Divine Guide, or a labrador retriever?

There she was, practically pinned to the ground under Carlisle’s divine weight— which felt like any other fully-grown man’s, if she was being honest— looking up into his sparkling blue eyes, and far too accepting of the predicament she found herself in.

There were worse men to be pinned under. At least, that’s what she told herself, although she brought that line of thinking to a hard stop. If she continued, she wouldn’t be able to face him for the rest of the afternoon without running the risk of becoming a blushing mess.

“You truly are something special, Miss Wilkes,” he breathed, entirely awestruck. “What is it the mortals say? You are the… oh, yes! You are the bee’s knees!”

It was a bit unnatural when it came from him, but she didn’t totally mind. It was part of the charm.

“Thanks, Carlisle,” she beamed. “You’re the cat’s pajamas, yourself.”

“Oh— the cat’s pajamas? I shall have to remember that one,” he tittered for a moment before slipping into a comfortable silence. As he looked at her, his eyes almost seemed to soften, producing a much more tender look than she had been anticipating. “You never cease to amaze me.”

“ _ You’re _ the Divine Guide,” she chuckled awkwardly, averting her gaze. Sliding out from under him, she pushed herself back up to a sitting position, subsequently pushing all manner of thoughts from her head. “I’m just… an actress from Manhattan.”

Cupping her cheek in his hand, he raised her face only slightly, beckoning her gaze to his. His smile— soft, understanding, and reassuring— soothed her, eased all of her worries.

“You are an absolute wonder…” he trailed off, and she could swear she saw his mouth begin to form the  _ Th- _ sound.

His smile faltered as he sighed, instead choosing to lean in, pressing his forehead to hers. The contact sent her heart into her throat, hammering away so violently, the rest of her body shook with each heartbeat.

“Well!” he chirped, pulling away from her and giving her a radiant smile. “Shall we explore the city, Miss Wilkes? We have several days to ourselves, after all!”

She managed a weak agreement, and, before she knew it, was pulled out of the room by her overly-enthusiastic Divine Guide.

As it so happened, because it was summertime, the county fair was in full swing. Carlisle, having never seen a county fair before, and Theo, having never been in Philadelphia before, decided to make full use of the festivities, and stop in.

The sun was beginning to set, the worst of the day’s heat finally beginning to subside, even if only a little. String lights dangled between stalls, crisscrossing over the thoroughfares, leaving everything well-lit, even as dusk began to set in.

The two had been walking around all day, taking in the sights, enjoying the company of one another. It was the best time Theo had spent in quite a while. She was light as air, finally free of her worries for just an evening.

It was enough.

Carlisle had been right. She  _ had _ needed a break. Up until that point, she had been speeding from one creditor to the next, constantly in a fight for her soul. Now that she had had an evening to relax, she was realizing how tightly wound she had been.

Even before her father’s passing, and this whole mess began, she had been spreading herself too thin in an effort to put on the best shows possible, and bring in more revenue. Even if her father hadn’t shared his financial woes with her, she had had her suspicions that the theatre wasn’t exactly doing as well as expected.

For the first time in  _ years _ , she could breathe again.

As a special treat, Theo pulled Carlisle over to a small stall, filled to the brim with trinkets. Thankfully, the majority of them were quite inexpensive, otherwise she would have kept walking. She was in no position to be a spendthrift.

“Do any of these catch your eye?” she asked him.

“Hmm…” he hummed, perusing the goods. Finally, he pointed at a perfectly reasonable, and rather plain set of lapel pins. “These look quite smart, I must say.”

“We’ll take those please,” Theo told the stall keeper, who nodded and began bagging them up.

“What?” Carlisle gasped. “Miss Wilkes! I could never impose upon you in this manner!”

“It’s fine. It’s a gift, and I want you to have them,” she smiled reassuringly. “It’s not much, but… consider it a thank-you for all of your help.”

“But—” he stammered, struggling to form the words, and finally giving her a helpless look.

“I insist.”

And that was that. Theo paid, and added the pins to his lapel. She couldn’t help but notice how pleased he looked as she carefully attached the pins. He seemed to be brimming with pride. It suited him.

Hand-in-hand with Carlisle, they wandered the fair, people pushing past them, hardly paying them any mind. Or… rather… they paid  _ Theo _ no mind. All eyes, however, were on Carlisle.

She could hardly be surprised.

“Oh, Carlisle, look!” A certain stall caught her eye, and she started pulling him along before she even got the words out. Approaching the stall, she pulled out her coin purse. “What flavor would you like? It’s my treat.”

“What… what is it?”

“You’ve never had—? Oh… I guess you wouldn’t have had it, would you?” she grimaced. “Sorry about that. Here—” Turning back to the stall owner, she held up two fingers. “Two ice creams, please. One chocolate ripple and one vanilla.”

Just like that, they procured two ice cream cones.

“Here, eat up!” she smiled, handing Carlisle the chocolate ripple cone. “It’s good— but don’t eat it too quickly, you’ll give yourself a humdinger of a headache.” She only had the chance to lick her ice cream  _ once _ before she realized that he was watching her a little  _ too _ intently. Suddenly self-conscious, she pointed at his cone. “Go ahead! It’s good!”

Mimicking her, he licked the ice cream, his eyebrows shooting up.

“It  _ is _ good…” he murmured before smiling at her. “Thank you, Miss Wilkes. You are too kind.”

“Here, want to try mine?” she offered, holding her cone out. He nodded, grabbing her hand, and bringing it closer to him, as opposed to simply grabbing the cone. It shocked her so badly that she nearly dropped the dessert, or crushed it in her hand.

“That is also a nice flavor. Very clean tasting.”

He let her go, allowing her arm to limply drift back to her side, only remaining upright in order to save her ice cream. For some reason, she was oddly exhausted after that interaction. She never thought that ice cream could cause so many problems.

Really, what was she supposed to do? The man had no clue what sort of effect he had on her, and she couldn’t keep denying that he  _ was _ having an effect on her.

They walked, chatted, and ate their ice creams, easily slipping into their usual momentum with one another. As the evening went on, and the lights overhead cast Carlisle in an ethereal light, she couldn’t help but wonder… who was he, really?

Sure, they had been together for a few days, but she knew exceedingly little about him.

“Carlisle, you mind if I ask you something?” she asked when they stopped to overlook the Delaware River.

“Of course not, Miss Wilkes. Ask away.”

Where to begin? It wasn’t easy to just ask for the details of someone’s life.

“Well, I was just thinking… we’ve been spending a lot of time together, and you seem to know a lot about me, but… I don’t know much about you.” He blinked at her, eyes wide, and she quickly followed up with, “Oh— well— if it makes you uncomfortable, then you don’t  _ need _ to share anything with me, I was just wondering—”

“I do not mind, Miss Wilkes,” he smiled, illuminated by the lights reflected off of the river. “What would you like to know?”

“Uh— I guess as much as you like?”

“Then, I shall tell you as much as I am legally allowed to share.”

Oh, right. Didn’t he mention some sort of Confidentiality Law that he was under? It still didn’t sit right with her, but there wasn’t much she could do about it.

“As you know, I used to be in Accounting. I was hardly anyone important— simply someone who managed the books. Nothing very glamorous about my occupation, I must admit,” he sighed, looking out over the water. “I would see the Divine Guides attending to their clients, and wished to fill those shoes. For a long time, I believed it was completely fruitless.”

Peeking at his profile, she noticed the wistful, almost sad look in his eyes. It was as if he was back in that office again.

“Then, what changed?” she asked, her voice quiet.

Her voice seemed to bring him out of his reverie, and he looked at her, his eyes sparkling just like the lights on the river’s surface. He looked at her as one would look upon their masterpiece, or upon their greatest treasure.

“The office received a report on your circumstances, Miss Wilkes,” he said, his voice just as quiet as hers, as if anything louder could shatter the moment between them. “It was such an extenuating circumstance, and one that The Entity was heading, no less… no one was brave enough to attempt to come and assist you. However, when I heard of your plight, I knew that it was my chance.” Reaching for her, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his finger lingering. “I could not leave you behind. I knew— somehow I simply  _ knew _ — that I could do something to help.

“I rushed to the Superiors of the office immediately, and nearly begged them for a promotion. No one else had taken the job. Thus, they conceded, and offered the position to me,” he explained, looking out over the water once more. “This is my trial. If I do well enough with you, and keep you from danger, then I could permanently become a Divine Guide.” 

So it had all been because of her. His promotion, his venture into the mortal world… had all been for  _ her _ . In a strange way, she was almost grateful for the odd circumstances she had found herself in. It was hell, yes, but she couldn’t help but think that it had been destiny, or fate.

Two beings, on completely opposite sides of the mortal spectrum, meeting in such a strange twist of fate. It was almost hard to believe.

“As soon as I met you, Miss Wilkes,” he continued, his voice the softest caress against her ears, “I knew that this was my destiny. Being a Divine Guide… and helping people such as yourself.”

A soft breeze picked up, carrying the muted sounds of the city. Once again, it seemed to just be the two of them, and no one else, in the entire world.

What were they? Were they really only two associates, battling the same circumstances together? Or were they something more? It almost seemed like they were  _ meant _ to be together, that they were  _ meant _ to meet, and work together, and—

_ Fall in love, _ she thought, her eyes searching his face.

She wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe it so badly, her heart wrenched in her chest. He was there for her, and  _ only _ her… that was enough, wasn’t it?

They were nearly halfway through, and it had only been several days. What could she possibly do when their time together came to its natural end? How could she possibly say goodbye to this source of light in her life?

Before she knew it, she had come to rely on him, and she wanted to be with him, always.

A bracing breeze nearly blew her hat off of her head, bringing her back to the moment at hand. Time continued to pass, no matter how much she wanted it to stay still. It wasn’t fair— but nothing in her life had been fair.

“How long were you in Accounting?” she asked awkwardly, surprising herself.

“Oh… some 900 years, I would say.” The two of them ripped their gazes from one another, settling on the wavering waters of the Delaware River instead. Even Divine Guides could feel awkward, it seemed.

“That’s a long time.”

“Yes… it is.”

Silence fell between them. She was only 21— how long was that to someone like Carlisle? Was it a day? A week? A year?

They couldn’t be together. It seemed painfully obvious to her at that moment, as the evening summer breeze blew a stray curl out from under her hat.

How foolish she had been, thinking that they could ever stand a chance together. Sure, they could enjoy the time they had, but what would hurt more— trying out this romance and having to say goodbye, or never trying at all? Would she regret it if she never told him that she was falling for him, too?

He had said her name. That must count for something.

Carlisle, however, would have other clients he would need to attend to. He would have other jobs that most likely took him all over the world. She couldn’t tie him down, or distract him. One day, she would die, and what would he do then? How much would her death hurt him?

It was a mess. It was all one giant mess, and she was constantly being swept up into it.

“Carlisle…” she started, already regretting the words that had not yet fallen from her lips.

“Yes, Miss Wilkes?”

“Have you ever been in love?”

For a long time, he didn’t answer. His silence was far worse than any affirmation he could have given her— to Theo, it either meant he didn’t know, or he didn’t want to tell her. Knowing her luck, especially with love, it was probably the latter.

She had always been the second choice. She would always  _ be _ the second choice. It was never her— it was always some other man or woman that would steal them away. As much as she wanted to be happy for those previous flames, the sting of rejection never fully healed.

“In all honesty, Miss Wilkes…” he started, still looking out over the water. “For many years, I never understood love. We would see humans sacrificing themselves in the name of love, starting wars in the name of love, forging bonds and pushing themselves apart, all for the sake of a single emotion. It was unfathomable.”

Casting her eyes skyward, she listened to him speak, never interrupting. She could see how he reached that conclusion. To an outsider, love must seem fake. Everyone states that they feel it, in some capacity or another, but it is not until they experience it that they know the weight it carries. It is a mystery— and that is all it would ever be.

“I always thought it must be quite amazing, though.” Casting a glance his way, she saw that he was smiling, but it was almost rueful. “I have found myself thinking, on more than one occasion, that to fall in love must be a wondrous thing.”

Theo continued to stare at him, searching for any minor change in expression that might give her a hint, but to no avail.

“So you’ve never been in love?” she ventured, her fingers trembling against the guardrail.

Finally, he turned to face her, a knowing twinkle in his eye.

“I do not believe that is entirely true.”

As if under some kind of spell, Theo inched closer to him, peering up into his face. She was practically holding her breath, waiting for whatever he would say next.

Could this be her chance? After years of being second-best, could she finally,  _ finally _ have her shot? She wanted to love. She wanted to  _ be _ loved. Was that so much to ask?

Inching closer, and closer, she could feel his breath on her lips as he murmured, “I believe I am learning what it means to love someone.”

_ Finally _ , she thought, as their lips came dangerously close to one another,  _ I have my chance. _

Alas. It was  _ never  _ that easy.

Right as her eyes fluttered closed, ready to share a kiss with someone she had mutual feelings with (for once), she heard a slight  _ snap _ , and violently lurched to the side.

The heel of her shoe broke, as it just so happened. Truly, just an odd instance of poorly-timed coincidence.

“Miss—!” he yelped, catching her as she fell, holding her in a daring dip. She blinked, unsure of what had just taken place, but was starting to put two and two together.

_ Just my luck, _ she thought, and was mostly correct.

“Are you hurt, Miss Wilkes?” he asked, his eyes wide with concern. It seemed that her sudden tumble was just as alarming for him as it was for her. Giving him an unsure nod, he righted her, checking her over from head to toe, fretting over her. “Perhaps… we should return to the inn.”

Her heart sank.

“Yeah. I guess we should.”

The two of them returned to their inn for the evening— Theo, for one, was more than happy to have a night of rest. After having to hobble back to the hotel, she was beat.

She had fallen asleep, and was gently roused by Carlisle’s warm, soft hand.

“Hm, Carlisle?” she murmured, rubbing her eyes. “What is it? What time is it?”

It was completely dark in the room, the moonlight filtering in. Carlisle almost seemed to glow in the moonlight— perhaps it was his divinity, although she couldn’t remember that ever happening before.

“I was thinking we should take a midnight stroll, if you wished?” he offered. The beginnings of a playful smile was forming on his lips, and she found that she couldn’t resist.

Before she knew it, they were out on the empty streets of Philadelphia, wandering around, just the two of them. Many of the buildings still had their lights on, casting an ethereal, dreamlike glow on the streets.

They held hands as they walked, but, for some reason, she felt much more aware of him than she usually did. She could feel every twitch of every muscle in his hand, how he seemed to squeeze it whenever her pace didn’t match his. She noticed him sneaking looks at her as they walked, the way a blush painted his cheeks.

“Cat got your tongue?” she asked, half-joking. Mostly, she was just curious as to what had him acting so strangely.

Before he had the chance to answer, she felt a single water droplet hit her forehead. Then another, and another… only for the two of them to be caught in a downpour that seemed to come out of nowhere.

“Oh, no!”

“Miss Wilkes, this way!” Tugging her along, he pulled her into a half-embrace under the cover of an alcove carved into a building. It wasn’t  _ much  _ cover, and the two of them were still getting thoroughly drenched, but at least half of their bodies were still dry.

“Just our luck, huh?” she joked, having to increase her volume to be heard over the rain. When she looked to him for his reaction, she was met, instead, with a much more intense look in his eyes than she was used to.

His eyes— usually such a clear, sparkling blue— had a darker, almost cloudy look to them. It was a look she had seen before, yes… but never from him. Never from someone she cared about.

“Carlisle…?” she breathed, her eyes scanning his face.

“Theo,” he murmured, his voice deep, and almost strained. Despite how strained his voice sounded, it was music to her ears. His fingers caressed her jawline, moving to brush her ear, and fully support her neck. “Theo, would you let me…?” he trailed off, leaning in closer, his eyes fixed on her lips.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as she leaned up, pressing her body flush against his. His other arm snaked around her waist, pulling her even closer to him, as if that was even possible.

“Please—” she whispered, one hand snaking into his wet hair. Leaning up on her tip-toes, she closed as much distance between them as she could.

His lips brushed hers, gentle, cautious, as if he didn’t want to hurt her. Her eyes fluttered closed as they leaned in again, their lips brushing once more, a little more adventurous than the first time.

Her stomach did little flips as he pulled her face closer, firmly pressing his lips against hers. His hand, which remained fixed at the small of her back, was the only thing that anchored her to this world. It was just the two of them, the rain, and the night, all coming together to create the perfect scene.

Their lips broke apart by mere centimeters, her breath mingling with his as she whispered his name, only to have her lips captured once more.

He wanted her. He really,  _ truly _ wanted her. No one else.

Breaking the kiss for only a moment, he kept her in a tight embrace as he gazed at her, his eyes sparkling, his cheeks rosy. Keeping one hand on the small of her back, he used the other to caress her cheek with his thumb.

“Theo…”

This was everything she could have wanted. He was calling her name, he felt the same way about her as she felt about him… it was everything she wanted, and more.

“Say my name again… please?”

“Theo,” he murmured as he leaned in again, his lips capturing hers once more, his tongue slipping into her mouth. With a quiet moan, she pulled him closer. He broke the kiss again, far too soon.

With half-lidded eyes, she stared up into his face, silently pleading with him.

“Again?”

He smiled, far more debonair than she had been anticipating, sending a small jolt through her.

“Theo.”

Another kiss, just as deep as the last. Theo leaned into him as much as she could, feeling that leaving any space between them would break the spell they were under.

He broke the kiss once more, still so close to her that their breath mingled with ease.

“... Again?”

He obliged, her name a deep purr against her lips, then against her neck, then to her collarbone, his lips trailing down the flesh, leaving fire in his wake. With each kiss, he said her name, his deep voice reverberating in his chest, and through hers.

He was gentle, but passionate, leaving her feeling perfectly loved, but not used. The rain continued to fall as he kissed her, time almost coming to a standstill as they embraced under the alcove.

She wanted him. She wanted all of him. Perhaps it was against some higher law that she was unaware of, but she was willing to risk it. Her soul was forfeit, anyway, so if making love to him would put her in trouble, then she wouldn’t mind it.

_ Bring on the trouble, _ she thought as their lips met once again, his teeth capturing her lower lip in a playful nip.

“Carlisle—” she gasped, breaking apart from him just long enough to look at him. “Maybe we should head back to the inn.”

He blinked at her, his eyes no longer dark with lust, but rather… completely clueless.

“Miss Wilkes?”

Her stomach  _ dropped _ . After a tryst in the rain, he was going to go back to calling her  _ Miss Wilkes? _

“Wha—?”

“Miss Wilkes?” he asked again, his voice annoyingly bright. Her eyes shut, and when she opened them again, she was in the inn, in bed, being gently awoken by the very man she had just been having a tryst with. “Miss Wilkes, it is time to wake up.”

It took her a few moments, but she realized what had happened. Cursing at herself, she turned over, hiding her burning face in her pillow.

“Five more minutes.”

“Oh, very well,” he conceded. “I suppose you need your rest, after all!”

He could say  _ that _ again. It was  _ his _ fault she hardly felt rested at all.

Several hours later, the two of them were sitting at a diner. While Carlisle politely declined any coffee, or breakfast, he was more than happy to oblige Theo in her basic needs. After the night she had had, she needed the coffee more than ever before.

Carlisle, however, was beginning to look pale again, daintily dabbing away a few droplets of sweat that were building up along his brow.

“Carlisle?” she asked, setting her cup of coffee down. “If you need…” she hesitated, casting a glance around the diner, and all of the horrendously normal people that populated it. “If you need  _ some fresh air, _ then feel free to step out.”

Thankfully, she didn’t have to elaborate more than that, for once. He seemed to understand what she meant.

“Ah, thank you, Miss Wilkes… then, please, excuse me. I shall return shortly.” Standing up, he gave her one last smile before departing.

Theo didn’t totally mind having a morning to herself, especially after that dream she had had the night before. What was wrong with her, dreaming about a tryst with Carlisle?

It had felt so real, too… what a disappointment that it hadn’t been. Now she would have to live with her feelings, and keep those boundaries between them. She had to draw a line in the sand, otherwise, her emotions would spiral out of control.

Closing her eyes, she took in the din of the diner as she took a sip of her coffee. Now that she was waking up a bit more, it was easier to reason with herself. She was acting like a teenager, and it needed to stop. Immediately.

The front door opened, the bell tingling delicately. Although she didn’t notice it at first, a hush fell over the diner, an almost palpable darkness coming over the place of business.

Theo, however, had her back to the front door, and wasn’t so keen that she knew what the twist in her gut meant. Nor did she notice the shadow falling over her table.

That is, until a gentle, posh voice broke her out of her reverie.

“Hello, Miss Wilkes.”

Flinching, Theo’s eyes flashed to the woman in the hat. The Entity, right there, looming over her table. She seemed taller than usual, in a way.

What made her skin crawl, however, was that— despite looking  _ up _ into her face— Theo still could not see the other half of The Entity’s face.

“Would you mind terribly if I joined you, Miss Wilkes?” she asked, her perfect lips forming into a perfect, polite smile. It held no warmth, not that Theo was particularly surprised.

“Please— uh, go ahead,” she stammered, awkwardly motioning to the seat across from her, and nearly knocking over her saucer of milk in the process.

She blinked, and The Entity was already seated across from her. Part of her felt as if she should be used to these tricks by now, but she cut herself some slack. It wasn’t normal, and she shouldn’t grow too accustomed to it.

She  _ hoped _ it was short-lived, at least.

“How are you faring, Miss Wilkes?” The Entity asked. It was odd, she was speaking at a normal volume, and yet, it almost felt as if it was muffled, or echoing around her. Theo glanced around, trying to discern the reason, when her thoughts were cut off. “I am simply assuring that no one will eavesdrop on our conversation, Miss Wilkes. This is rather sensitive, after all.”

“Oh…”

“First, allow me to extend my most genuine felicitations to you for surviving for this long. That is most impressive. I must say, far more than I was expecting.”

Theo didn’t answer. She knew a backhanded compliment when she heard one. She  _ was _ an actress, after all— she had received her fair share of snide remarks, and they were usually from her fellow actors more than anyone else.

“Second, I have arrived to clear up some misconceptions regarding my motives. I believe Mister Dods has shared information that he was not entitled to.”

With everything that had happened, Theo had completely forgotten to talk to Carlisle about the whole  _ apocalypse _ thing. Damn her attention span! He was so pretty, he could stop traffic, and that made keeping her thoughts organized far more difficult than she would like to admit.

“Yes,” Theo sighed, holding her cup in both hands. “He told me that you are planning to end the world once you have all of the rings.”

“Yes, he did tell you that, however, that is not my intention, at all,” she said, examining her nails, as if they were talking about a simple dispute of opinion over a blouse. “I have no interest in starting the apocalypse, Miss Wilkes. You can accept my word on that.”

“Ma’am, I mean no disrespect, but—”

“What is my word worth?” she finished, her blue eye flicking up to meet Theo’s gaze, a knowing, chilling smile resting on her lips. “I have been perfectly forthright with you thus far, my dear.”

“You could have given me more detail,” Theo muttered, glaring at her coffee cup. A violent shudder passed down her spine, from the base of her neck to the tip of her tailbone. When she looked up, she saw The Entity frowning at her, obviously not amused.

“I am a very busy woman. I do not have the time to sit and lead you through every ounce of nuance in this business.” With a sneer, she added, “Forgive me, Miss Wilkes.”

“No… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” she lied.

“I am sure you didn’t.” Theo blinked, and her cigarette holder was in her hands. When she blinked again, the cigarette was lit, and The Entity was already blowing out a perfect smoke ring from her perfect mouth. “As I stated, your only role in this entire farce is to ensure that these whelps learn that there are still clever humans in this world. You are here to teach them a lesson. Nothing more, nothing less.”

It wasn’t adding up. What Dods had told her had made so much sense, how could she be expected to just accept this flimsy explanation? If anything, she believed Dods more than The Entity in that moment.

After all, surely The Entity knew that Theo would be more likely to give up if she  _ was _ somehow involved in bringing about the apocalypse.

“Please…” Theo started, leaning forward until her diaphragm was digging into the table. “Please, just tell me the truth. If I’m helping to start something like that, then…” she trailed off, swallowing the words. She had wanted to say,  _ then I give up _ , but she was hesitant, still.

It was so much easier to say she would sacrifice herself for humanity in  _ theory _ . Now that it was in practice, she was floundering.

“I would suggest you choose your next words  _ very _ wisely, love,” The Entity warned, another smoke ring puffing from her mouth. As per usual, Theo hardly saw her take drags from her cigarette, so it was just as bizarre as the last time. “If you state that you wish to forfeit this little errand you are on, then I shall randomly assign you to a creditor, and you shall work for them for eternity. Or, perhaps, in the interest of fairness, I shall simply have you work eternally for all seven of them, simultaneously.” Blowing out a puff of smoke, The Entity frowned, seeming bored. “It is your choice.”

Theo straightened, lifting her gaze to The Entity, leveling her with a steady look.

She couldn’t give up. She  _ refused  _ to give up. But if she was going to be single-handedly responsible for ending all of humanity, then what was she meant to do?

“I want you to prove to me that you’re telling the truth.”

“Those are some large demands from the daughter of a cheat, I must say,” The Entity cooed, voice as posh and gentle as ever. An enraged shudder passed through Theo, but thankfully, she held her tongue. “Very well, Miss Wilkes. Despite your father’s indiscretions, I shall prove that I speak the truth.”

Theo didn’t dare move her eyes from her face, didn’t dare  _ blink _ . She knew that if she did, The Entity would simply disappear without an answer.

With a delicate roll of her blue eye, The Entity sighed. “Darling, get in here.”

This was just enough to break Theo’s focus, whose face screwed up into a confused grimace, not realizing that The Entity was not speaking to her. To be fair, it was only the two of them in that little space, cut off from the rest of the world, so it was not entirely unlikely that The Entity  _ was _ speaking to her.

Alas, she wasn’t.

“Yes, madame?” Theo nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden appearance of the voice, pressing herself against the wall, as far away from this new presence as was possible. Who else was standing there, looking down his nose at her, than Mister Dods, himself? “Oh.  _ You _ .”

“How did he—?” Theo started, and knew better than to finish.

“Darling, I see you remember our little anomalous client,” The Entity explained, examining her nails. Obviously, this was more of an annoyance to her than anything else. “Perhaps you can assure her that everything you told her yesterday was entirely false.”

“It was entirely false,” he repeated, not missing a beat.

“What—? Then why say it at all?” Theo demanded.

“Miss Wilkes, perhaps you do not entirely understand what sort of beings you are dealing with,” Dods sneered, his sharpened features twisting in condescension. “We are not  _ obligated _ to tell you the truth. You are simple naive enough to believe us.”

Theo’s jaw dropped as she stared at Dods, completely flabbergasted. She really couldn’t understand this man at all. First, he tells her The Entity is trying to start the apocalypse, throwing her into a frenzy of a moral (and mortal) dilemma, and then he just  _ takes it all back? _

“You little weasel!” she growled, pushing herself to her feet, grabbing him by the lapels, and pulling him close. “I’m not  _ naive _ , pal. None of this makes a lick of sense, so of  _ course _ I have to take your word for it!”

“Then that is your  _ personal _ issue to work through, Miss Wilkes,” he sneered, sounding like any other high-class snob. Pushing her hands away, he hissed, “Kindly remove your filthy hands from my person.” Theo let him go, but her glare didn’t ease up at all. With a huff, he turned back to The Entity, who was just as unreadable as usual. “Is that all, madame?”

“Yes. Take note, though, dear,” she warned, her voice dropping into a venomous baritone. “I will not tolerate slander. If you, or any of the others, believe they can put ideas into Miss Wilkes’ head, they will face  _ severe _ punishment.”

“Of course, madame.” Dods bowed, shooting a nasty glare at Theo.

“She is at enough of a disadvantage, already,” The Entity sighed, waving her cigarette holder as if she was put off by some foul weather. “Devereux has his eyes on her.”

“Devereux?” Theo gaped, her head snapping towards The Entity, who paid her no mind at all. “What do you  _ mean _ ?”

“That is all,” The Entity frowned, snapping her fingers once more. When Theo looked to Dods for help, or any sort of cue, she found he had disappeared. Go figure. “There, Miss Wilkes. You have your truth, as per your request.”

“What did you mean about Devereux?”

“Oh. He is hardly the only one who is paying special attention to you. Cain is, as well,” she stated, blowing out a perfect smoke ring, as bored as could be. Theo could only gape at her. “Shall you continue on this errand for me, Miss Wilkes? I am afraid that, if you wish to hold onto your mortal soul, that is your only option.”

Theo wasn’t exactly satisfied with any of the answers she had received that morning, if she was being honest. As per usual, she was hesitant to be honest about how she felt with an otherworldly individual that didn’t seem to care about her wellbeing.

“... Fine. I’ll finish it.”

The Entity smiled at her, something far more unnatural than any other magic trick she had up her sleeve. Theo didn’t return it. Instead, she made a promise to herself as she stared at the otherworldly woman before her.

At the very first sign that something would happen, at the very first earthquake, or lightning strike, or whatever the apocalypse entailed, Theo would destroy the rings. She would accept an eternity of servitude to a creditor before damning everyone else on her behalf.

This, she swore to herself. It was do or die, and she was willing to do both, if she had to.

The Entity stood, the overwhelming, natural silence of the diner resuming once more. It had a different sort of air to it, a different feeling. It was a  _ chosen _ silence, and that unnerved Theo the most.

“Then, I shall look forward to hearing of your results, Miss Wilkes.” Brushing past her, she waved her hand, her perfectly-manicured nails catching the diner’s lights. “Good day.”

At that moment, Carlisle returned, the bell on the front door ringing with his entrance. He was all smiles for about 1.118 seconds, until his eyes landed on The Entity, then he immediately blanched. Just like that, his good color  _ vanished _ .

“Madame—” he gasped, standing at attention.

The Entity strode up to him, grabbed him by the shoulders, and leaned in to whisper something into his ear. Theo couldn’t hear what she said, but watched his reaction for any sort of clues.

He listened intently, his brows furrowing in concern before his eyes flicked up to Theo. His eyes remained glued to hers as The Entity whispered to him, attempting to give her a reassuring smile. Eventually, he nodded, his eyes lowering to the floor. The Entity continued to whisper, an unnaturally wide smile pulling at her lips, even in profile.

It must have been a trick of the light, because Theo thought she saw needle-like teeth jutting out from The Entity’s lower jaw. It only lasted for a moment, but it was enough to send a shudder through her.

Odd.

The Entity finished whispering to Carlisle, patting him on the cheek, and giving him a bright, motherly smile, before striding out of the diner entirely. The pendant that she had given Theo pulsated once, mimicking the shift of energy within the diner, before it returned to its usual, dormant state.

Carlisle scrambled over to her, taking her by the shoulders.

“Miss Wilkes, you are not hurt, are you?” he fretted. “Oh— if I knew The Entity would appear, I would not have left you. I am terribly sorry!”

“No, it’s fine— we actually had some business, anyway.” Guiding him to his seat, she sat across from him, opening up the menu. “But I’m starved, especially after  _ that _ . Let’s eat.”

They spent the day wandering the city, sightseeing, but Theo’s mind was elsewhere. After her meeting with The Entity, and her cryptic warning, she wanted a little more information.

“Carlisle… how much do you know about Devereux?” she asked as they walked the streets. “Or Cain, for that matter.”

He blinked at her, surprised.

“Whatever brought on this curiosity, Miss Wilkes?”

“Before you got back from getting some fresh air, The Entity told Dods that Devereux was ‘keeping an eye on me’,” she explained, the memory of the words settling in the pit of her stomach. “But when I asked for more information, she just breezed through it. She didn’t tell me a thing. I was hoping you could shed some light on it.”

He tilted his head from side to side, weighing her words carefully. As they continued to walk, Theo noticed that more and more people were paying attention to him as they passed. It made sense, sure, but it left her feeling a bit protective.

After all, who would step in if he got himself into some trouble? Judging by the looks in their eyes, they weren’t about to forget him any time soon. She could only hope they would leave them alone.

“To be perfectly honest with you, Miss Wilkes, I am not entirely sure what she meant by that.” He offered an apologetic look. “Please forgive me.”

“No, it’s fine, no worries.” It couldn’t be helped; she would just have to be more vigilant. “What about Cain?”

He considered this for a moment.

“I have actually had a theory about this, although I was hesitant to voice it until I had the proper evidence,” he paused, putting himself between Theo and a gaping gentleman that was passing at the same time. “I believe that Mister Cain may be the leader behind those nefarious characters we keep coming into contact with.”

“Really? You mean the—” she started, before lowering her voice to a whisper. “You mean the mobsters and cops?”

“Exactly that, yes. You see, Miss Wilkes, otherworldly beings of that ilk are not very likely to cooperate on a single task. Usually they are of the mentality of— and I do beg your pardon for saying this in your presence—  _ kill or be killed _ .” He grimaced only slightly before returning to his contemplative affect. “They would hardly ever cooperate unless they were commanded to do so, which has made me think that someone must be giving them orders. Unfortunately, the most likely suspect is Mister Cain.”

“What makes you so sure?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. “There are four more I need to deal with, right? What makes Cain stand out? Why not Devereux, or one of the others?”

Another few moments of contemplation, and then he nodded furiously.

“Yes… yes, I suppose you  _ do _ have a point!” he beamed, despite the conversation topic. “I had convinced myself so thoroughly that it  _ must _ be Mister Cain that I had not considered that Mister Devereux would also have plenty of motive.”

As they had both been mentioned by The Entity, Theo wasn’t prepared to let either one of them off the hook until she found her answer, especially if Carlisle’s hunch was correct.

“I am afraid that those two are most likely to cause serious harm to your person, Miss Wilkes,” he frowned. “Based on my reports, they are the two most dangerous of this decade, and are desperately in need of an assistant.”

“So they’re targeting me.”

“I am afraid so,” he sighed, tugging on her arm slightly, and pulling her to a stop on the side of the sidewalk. “They are dangerous enough on their own, Miss Wilkes, but they are desperate, as well. There is no telling what either one of them may do in order to get closer to you.” Placing his hands on her shoulders, his eyes wavered as he gazed at her, emphatic. “I am afraid we are entering the worst of it now, Miss Wilkes. Please, do not trust any strange people you may meet.”

He spoke with so much purpose, so much worry, that she felt much worse about her current situation than she had before. As her eyes scanned his face, looking for any clue, any sign that it would be okay, a chill settled over her in the humid, summer air.

“Okay…” she said, her voice quiet, almost wavering. “I promise.”

“I apologize, Miss Wilkes. I do not mean to alarm you. I simply fear what these vagabonds may have in mind for you.”

“Yeah…” she muttered as they stepped back into the flow of foot traffic. “So do I.”

Around the mid-afternoon, Theo fell into a sleep-deprived slump, and couldn’t seem to shake herself from it. Thinking a nap could help— hopefully, sans her steamy, dreamy rendezvous with her Guide— she retired to the inn room for the afternoon.

Carlisle explained that he had a small errand to run, and would attend to it while she slept, but assured her that she was in no danger, and could sleep peacefully.

Sleep, she did. It was much more peaceful than the night prior, too. No dreams— at least, that she could remember.

When she awoke, the sun was just beginning to set, dyeing the whole room red with its brilliant light. Carlisle was nowhere to be found, but she did spy a frock on a hanger, hanging in the far edge of the room.

Next to the frock was a small side table, with a piece of paper folded in half sitting atop it. It had her name— or rather,  _ Miss Wilkes _ — written on it in near-perfect cursive. Unfolding the piece of paper, she read the contents:

_ Miss Wilkes, _

_ I do hope that you have been able to properly rest up. Once you are ready, perhaps you would care to join me this evening for a night on the town? You have worked so very hard, and it is in my humble opinion that you enjoy yourself, as well. _

_ I hope you do not mind, but I have found an ensemble that I do believe suits you. Whenever you are ready, please join me in the dining room. I shall humbly anticipate your arrival. _

_ Faithfully Yours, _

_ Carlisle Adamson _

True to his word, it wasn’t only the dress, but shoes, a tiara— the whole nine yards! He must have spent the entire afternoon gathering all of the pieces of this “ensemble”, as he put it. With an excited grin, Theo pulled on the frock, and adjusted it as needed, but it fit like a glove.

Part of her wondered if his divine capabilities could have influenced that.

The other part of her didn’t care. It was the nicest dress she had ever owned.

With extra care, she attended to her hair and makeup, adding the final touches and stepping back, admiring her work.

She looked picturesque, yes, but more than that, she looked happy. She couldn’t remember the last time she had looked in a mirror and had felt satisfied with herself. The woman in her reflection was worth admiring.

Was it Carlisle’s presence that had done this to her? Perhaps, in part. Overwhelmingly, however, it was the fact that she was on her own for the first time in her life, fighting hard, living out an adventure, and she was being  _ herself _ .

How long had it been since she thought of herself as an individual, and not as part of something else?

… Too long, no doubt.

Spritzing on some perfume (which Carlisle had also included as part of the ensemble), she pulled on her shoes, and walked to the dining room as gracefully as she could. Passing the threshold, she immediately spotted Carlisle sitting at a small table, an untouched cup of tea sitting before him.

“Well?” she asked. “How do I look?”

When he first looked up, he did a double-take, his eyes widening, his cheeks immediately becoming a beautiful, rosy color. Theo did a little spin, giving him a confident smile, and his blush only deepened.

“Miss—” he gasped, standing up so quickly that he knocked the table on his way up. Scrambling to right it, he tittered, obviously flustered, before looking at her once more. “Miss Wilkes… forgive me for being so forward, but you are a sight to behold!”

Fluffing her hair ever so slightly, she couldn’t even get out a  _ oh, you’re too kind _ before he rushed over to her, taking her hands in his. Peering up into his face, she was met with his blue eyes, sparkling like the night sky, filled with so much admiration and happiness that it was enough to bring her to a halt.

“You truly look beautiful, Miss Wilkes,” he breathed, only to realize himself, and titter. “Oh, goodness— look at how bold I am becoming.”

As he laughed at himself, and awkwardly attempted to backtrack from his “bold” proclamation, Theo couldn’t help but remember her dream from the night before.

She might have had a nap, but that didn’t mean the effects of the dream were any less apparent. No, if anything, it was even worse. It was far too simple to remember the all-too-real feeling of his lips on hers, his hand on the small of her back, his breath against her neck as he murmured her name against her skin…

He squeezed her hands, bringing her back to the present.

“Shall we, Miss Wilkes? The night awaits!”

Theo had been to a few dance clubs and speakeasies in her time, but she had never enjoyed her company as much as she did that night. Carlisle was the perfect gentleman (and the perfect date, although she was sure he wasn’t aware of it).

The first hour at the dance club was spent teaching him how to swing dance. Unsurprisingly, he was a very quick learner, and managed to pick it up rather easily. What else could she expect from a Divine Guide?

Fast songs were her favorite. She loved the feeling of moving to the beat, and reveled in keeping up with the band. She had impressed a few people at the club, too, and had even gained a few invitations to dance from other people. As it was a laidback night on the town, she and Carlisle agreed that they should dance with whomever they please.

This was all well and good, but it wasn’t too long before both men and women started fighting over him. His pretty face really  _ could _ stop traffic, and that was an issue in such a social setting.

When things started getting a  _ little _ ugly, Theo stepped in, stealing him away with a few apologies to his admirers. They shot her some nasty glares, but she simply returned them, and they backed off easily enough.

The band started a new song, just as upbeat as the last, and they danced together. Shooting him a wry look, she shook her head.

“You really have to be more careful,” she chuckled. “You’re too popular. This could cause problems.”

“I must admit, mortals are much more bold than I was anticipating,” he tittered, seeming almost breathless in a way. He beamed at her. “You were also quite popular, Miss Wilkes.”

She was only slightly disappointed that there wasn’t even a trace of jealousy in his voice, but then she realized that as a Divine Guide, he was either above such emotions, or incapable of them, entirely.

“Of course, I am hardly surprised that you have received so many invitations to dance, Miss Wilkes. You are as pretty as a picture tonight.” His sunny smile relaxed into something a little more comfortable as he looked at her, his eyes sparkling once more. Pursing her lips together, she fought off a smile.

“Thanks. And thanks again for the dress.”

“You deserve to have nice things, Miss Wilkes. You are a kindhearted person— beautiful on the inside, as well as out.”

“There you go, flattering me again,” she chuckled, bowing her head to hide her blush.

“I am wholly serious,” he gently insisted. “I truly believe that about you, Miss Wilkes. You are the most amazing woman I have ever met.”

“But I’m also the  _ only  _ woman you’ve ever met,” she teased, but he only smiled back.

“I would have it no other way.”

Fighting off the flutter in her stomach, she focused more of her energy on dancing. She could read into every word he said, evaluate them thousands of times, and she would end up right back where she started.

Desperate for a change in topic— perhaps to free herself from her own mind— a thought materialized, and immediately spilled from her mouth, unfiltered.

“So— what did The Entity say to you this morning?” It wasn’t her personal best, but it was all she had on hand at the moment. “She was speaking to you for a while.”

“Oh…” he sighed, drooping slightly. “As I have said before, The Entity has a bit of authority over Divine Guides. She was simply… reminding me of my place.”

Judging by the look on his face, it was obviously not a particularly pleasant memory. She felt a little bad bringing it up.

“Sorry. Was just curious.”

“You have nothing to worry about, Miss Wilkes.”

The song ended, and the band switched gears to something far slower than what Theo was anticipating. A few of the surrounding dance partners left the floor, returning to their booths, but Carlisle didn’t budge.

He picked up on the change in rhythm immediately, and Theo watched as he scanned the rest of the floor, mirroring what the other dancers were doing. Their pace slowed, and he pulled her closer, his hand resting on the small of her back.

Immediately, her mind went back to her invented tryst from the night prior. It was a dangerous headspace to be in, especially in the arms of a man like him. If all she could think about was the feeling of his lips on hers, the unresolved knot in her stomach, then how could she possibly keep her head while they were dancing?

Matters were only made worse when he leaned down, pressing his cheek to hers as they danced. She jolted at the initial contact, eventually relaxing in his arms, and wrapping her arms around his neck, slowly dancing with him.

The music carried them as they danced. It left Theo feeling braver than usual. Perhaps in part due to the intoxication of the moment, and perhaps because he was flattering her so much, but she felt like she had a chance.

“Carlisle?”

“Yes, Miss Wilkes?”

“Yesterday… when you called me Theo, it honestly made me so happy,” she said, letting out a single, pitiful chuckle. “I know it makes you uncomfortable, but— I don’t know, I guess I wanted to tell you how much it meant to me.”

He leaned away, although he kept up with the rhythm. His cheeks were a bright red, although she wasn’t sure if it was just the lighting, or her imagination, or if he was actually blushing. As he gazed down at her, she could see the reservation in his eyes.

He was holding himself back.

“I…” he started, sighing slightly. As she watched him, she felt like she was looking into the face of the  _ real _ Carlisle Adamson. No business, no forced propriety, just… who he wanted to be. “I apologize. Being a Divine Guide, I am obligated to act in the proper manner, to speak to you in the proper manner. I do not call you ‘Miss Wilkes’ to spite you. In fact, I do not  _ wish _ to call you ‘Miss Wilkes’. I am simply duty-bound to do so.”

Well, that was a better explanation than what he had given her before. Perhaps because he was being so candid with her, probably for the first time ever.

“I suppose, in a way, I am already stepping out of the bounds of proper etiquette simply by spending so much time with you,” he continued, almost seeming sad. “Please know, I do not mean to hurt you. If anything…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but Theo had an idea of where it was going. It was almost as if he was trying to protect her, to keep his distance, so that she wouldn’t get hurt when they had to part ways.

That was it, wasn’t it?

“I admit, I find myself greatly enjoying my time with you,” he smiled softly, the omission of her name ringing out as clear as a bell. Just by  _ not _ calling her Miss Wilkes, it was as if he was calling her by her given name.

“And I’m enjoying myself with you, too.”

They continued to sway from side to side, bodies flush against each other. Theo had to crane her neck back to look into his face, yet she felt as light as air. Keeping a hand on the small of her back, he used the other to lightly brush the back of his fingers against her cheek. The action, and the wistful smile that accompanied it, caught her off-guard, but it wasn’t unwelcome.

Slowly, ever slowly, they began inching closer to one another. Her heart hammered in her chest, believing her dream would come true— one way or another.

“Would you allow me…?” he asked, his voice exactly the same as it had been in her dream the night prior. Her heart squeezed in her chest, as she nodded, and tilted her head to meet his lips in a kiss—

The crashing of glass right behind her shocked her out of the moment. Spinning around, her heart pounded for a completely  _ separate, _ far less positive reason. Thinking that the mobsters were back, or maybe the constables, her eyes scanned the room.

No, she was only met with a sheepish-looking waiter.

“I’m so sorry! It slipped right out of my hands!” he whimpered. “Please, let me sweep this up before someone gets hurt!”

“Oh— right…” she faltered, glancing back at Carlisle.

Now that the moment was over, she was incredibly embarrassed with herself. How could she be so  _ bold _ ? True, Carlisle wasn’t her first kiss, and he wasn’t her first lover, but something about him made her feel like a flustered schoolgirl.

“Should we go…?” she asked, giving him a sheepish smile. “It’s getting late.”

Although Carlisle nodded, she couldn’t help but notice that he looked particularly disappointed. She convinced herself that it was only her imagination, though. There was no way that had just happened, right?

Hand-in-hand, they left the dance club, an awkward silence settling over them for the first time since they met.

Theo kept her eyes fixed to her feet as they walked, afraid to look into his intoxicatingly beautiful blue eyes. Part of her felt that if she did, she would lose control of herself again.

Her clouded thoughts rolled over one another like violent thunderheads, bumping into one another, clashing with one another… she wanted this romance, she wanted  _ him _ , but she knew better. She knew that there was no happy ending with him— they would  _ have _ to part ways one day, and one day  _ soon _ .

A cold drop on her nose broke her out of her thoughts.

_ Oh, you have to be joshing me, _ she thought, with no shortage of disdain. This was playing out like her dream— but there was no way, right?

The rain came, sudden and powerful, soaking her thin frock through and through. Carlisle shedded his coat, holding it above them in a fruitless attempt to keep them dry.

“Over there, Miss Wilkes!” he urged, pointing towards a nearby alcove.

_ What is—? _

However, she had no time to properly question the situation she was in, as she was being ushered towards the alcove, an eerily familiar situation playing out. She was even getting soaked in the same way. It was uncanny.

Honestly, the whole situation was so bizarre that she could hardly be thankful for it. Had she really predicted the whole thing?

And did that mean that she and Carlisle—?

Making the mistake of looking up at him at that exact moment, her face practically burst into flames as she remembered the saucy details of her fantasy. She wasn’t sure she would be able to handle it as smoothly in reality. Her dream self was braver than  _ she  _ was.

Scooting her closer to him, he kept his arms up, covering her from the rain with his blazer.

“Oh, dear. You have gotten quite soaked.”

“So have you,” she quipped. “It’s fine. A little rain never hurt anyone.”

The thought occurred to her, for just a second, to push him against the wall, and continue where they left off in the dance hall, and live out her dream tryst to the best of her ability. Of course, being a rational person, she refrained, although she was quite tempted.

Especially since his hair had gotten a little disheveled in their scuffle with the rain. It gave him a certain edge that she hadn’t been anticipating, and it was making her heart do little flips in her chest.

“Should we wait until it clears up?” he asked, his voice quiet, bordering on husky.

_ Yes, please, _ was her initial thought.

“We could probably make it,” was what she ended up saying instead, and immediately regretting.

Although he gave her a confused look, he conceded to her wishes, and the two of them joined hands once more, running through the rain back to the inn. By the time they reached their room, they were dripping wet, and it was probably close to 3:30 in the morning. Theo would be lying, though, if she said she didn’t like it.

Sometimes, getting caught in the rain and staying out way too late was part of the fun of living.

The rain continued to pour outside. Theo watched it as she took a seat on the bed, waiting for Carlisle to turn on the light.

He never did. Instead, he sat next to her, just as soaked through as she was.

“Sorry for making you run through the storm like that,” she said, her voice soft. It was late, and with the lights off, she was far more aware of his presence than usual. She could feel every minute movement he made, every way the mattress shifted with his weight.

He was so close to her, and yet so far. She could almost feel his sleeve brushing her arm, and yet, knew it was  _ just _ missing her.

“It is quite alright.” His voice still had that quietly husky quality to it, as if rumbling in his chest.

She knew it was foolish to be so hung up on a single dream, but she couldn’t help it. Despite only being together for a few days, she was really, truly falling for him, and was painfully aware of it. What was worse— he seemed to be developing feelings for  _ her _ , too. She would be a fool to think otherwise.

After all, he had asked to kiss her at the club, hadn’t he?

Tentatively, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was slightly illuminated by the lights outside, but just barely. The darkness was comforting, in a way. She couldn’t see his face as clearly as she usually could, and it only made her braver. She felt that she could say everything that had been on her mind, and he would understand.

It was late. Well past the time that any reasonable person would share their secrets.

And yet…

“Um— so… did you have fun tonight?” she asked, her voice soft, but awkward. Despite the fact that it felt like just the two of them in the world, she was overly aware of the volume of her voice.

“Yes, I had quite a bit of fun.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yeah. I did.”

They fell into silence. There was no doubt in her mind that they were both thinking about the same thing— the kiss that never happened.

“Um—”

“I hope I did not make you uncomfortable this evening,” he said suddenly. “I would not be able to forgive myself if I acted too brashly, and made you uncomfortable as a result.” He folded his hands into his lap. “I may have… lost my senses for a moment earlier.”

“Oh, Carlisle…” Placing her hand on his, she looked up into his face, smiling reassuringly, although she was sure he couldn’t see it. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I promise.” Stumbling over herself for a moment, she continued, “I was— well, I heard the glass break, and my first thought was that the mobsters were back, and… I was just startled, that’s all. But that wasn’t  _ your  _ fault.”

He sighed, relieved.

“I am happy to hear it.” They fell into silence once more, but only for a few moments. “I must admit… I have not entirely lost my senses. I find that…” he trailed off, taking her hand in his. “I find that I care about you a great deal. Far more than I should.”

Lacing their fingers together, she leaned closer, against her better judgment.

“I feel the same,” she whispered, her voice heavy in her throat.

Turning his head— an action that she was far too aware of— he looked at her, his eyes reflecting what little light was in the room. His thumb traced outlines on her fingers, seemingly absent-mindedly, although it sent sparks through her hands.

The rain continued to fall outside, filling their silence. It was enough to keep her grounded to her senses, although only by a thread.

Carlisle leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers, keeping their hands intertwined. He let out a slight sigh, his breath hitting her lips, a cruel reminder of how close they were in that moment.

“That makes me incredibly happy,” he confessed in a wavering whisper.

It was that tone of voice that brought her down to reality, cold and harsh and unforgiving. Yes, Carlisle was a dream come true, and he was kind, and honest, and everything she had wanted for such a long time, but…

“We can’t,” she breathed. She felt him tense, his hands squeezing hers, almost imperceptibly. “I’m sorry.”

“What is wrong?” Reaching up, he brushed his thumb along her jawline, cupping her cheek in his hand. It was comforting, and everything she had wanted, but it wasn’t right.

“I’ve been thinking about this, and…” she paused, biting her lip. “Carlisle, you’re wonderful. I’ve had so much fun with you, but… we’re  _ different _ .” Squeezing his hands, she lowered her head onto his shoulder. Her gut was wrenching now that she was getting the words out, but it  _ had _ to be said. “You’re a Divine Guide. You’re just starting out. At the end of this whole mess, you’ll have to leave.”

“I…” he faltered, and sighed. He began to smooth down her hair in slow, meticulous motions, although she wasn’t sure if it was meant to comfort her, or him. “I do not  _ want _ to leave you.”

“And that’s the problem.” Her voice wavered, and she hated that she was getting choked up over something so minimal. “You should enjoy yourself. You should go and help other people. You said it yourself: you  _ like _ helping people. I can’t take that away from you.”

“... If I were to  _ choose  _ to stay with you—”

“No. No. I can’t—” she sighed, frustrated. Her stomach was tying itself into gruesome knots, her heart sinking into the pit of her torso, but she  _ knew _ it was the right thing to do. “I could never ask someone to give up their dream for me. I can’t. It’s not fair to you, and I could never sleep at night knowing that I made you do that.” Leaning back, she looked at him, her eyes searching the dark. “I can’t ask that of you, and it’s because I care about you that I won’t.”

Burying her head into her hands, she heaved a sigh, her whole body shaking.

“And… if it will be easier for you, and easier for me in the long run… I think we shouldn’t go any further than this.” The words burned her tongue, made her sick to her stomach, but she had to say them. “I’m sorry, Carlisle. I just don’t want to—  _ hurt  _ you.”

With those final words, when she heard her voice break, she lost her grip on the few spare threads of her composure. A quiet sob escaped her, and that was all it took. The tears came freely, pooling in her hands. Carlisle pulled her closer, gentle, allowing her plenty of room to back out if she so wished.

But she didn’t.

She clung onto him, crying into his shoulder, whispering  _ I’m sorry _ over and over until she couldn’t voice it anymore. He never said anything, only listened, and rubbed her back as the rain continued to fall outside.

It was for the greater good. That was what she told herself.

No matter how much it hurt then, she knew it would be better that way.

At least… that was all she could hope for. She wished for the day when she could look back at her time with Carlisle, and remember it fondly. In that moment, though, she wasn’t sure that day would ever come.


	6. Phineas G. Harrington

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!! Thanks for keeping up so far! I hope you're enjoying this! The songs for this chapter are "It's a Wonderful Life" (not to be at all confused with the film of the same name), and "O Blessed Child".
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr (longhairedantagonists) and twitter (@soowonheika)!
> 
> Thanks for reading! :^)

When Theo awoke, she was standing on the stage of the Starry-Eyed Fortuna, the spotlights shining down on her, despite no audience members or other actors present. It was silent, distorted, the darkness and shadows weighing down on her as if they could live and breathe.

At the end of the stage was the crater left behind by the stage light. An invisible force pushed her forward, closer and closer to the hole, still stained with blood. Kneeling next to it, she was met with blood stains on her costume, her hands, her arms.

“Theo.”

Spinning around, she immediately spotted her father— intact, alive, and completely immaculate. The only thing he was missing was his hat. Other than that, he was there, standing before her, against all logic and against all odds.

“Papa—”

She barely got the words out before metal groaned overhead, so loud that it completely drowned her out. Her eyes flashed upwards, just in time to see the stage light loosen itself from its bearings, and begin to fall—

“No—” she whispered, meeting her father’s eyes for an instant, a ghost of a smile forming on his lips as the light came crashing down.

For just a second, she could swear she saw the shadow of The Entity standing behind him— but everything went black before she could know for sure.

She awoke in her bed in the inn, alone. Turning over onto her side, she spotted Carlisle, his back to her, half-dressed. Immediately, all traces of weariness were gone, her nightmare already fading from her memory.

After all, when being met with the sculpted back muscles of her Divine Guide, it was  _ very _ easy to forget the nightmares of her past.

No, wait— she was supposed to be  _ resisting _ him. Ogling his back muscles wasn’t going to do her any good.

And yet… she just couldn’t tear her eyes away.

Having been an actress for her entire life, she had seen plenty of people in various states of undress. For the most part, she was desensitized.

For the most part.

He pulled on his shirt, seemingly unaware that she was awake. While his back muscles held the majority of her attention, her eyes flitted, for just a moment, to his arms. It had been just a moment, but she swore she saw designs poking through— tattoos?

She wasn’t totally sure, and they were hidden from view before she could get a good look. It was probably just the shadows playing tricks on her. It wasn’t like she could ask him about it—  _ oh, by the way, I was watching you get dressed this morning, and I have to ask: do you have tattoos? _

Probably not for the best. It was bad enough that she watched him, to begin with.

Groaning slightly, she stretched, making a big show of waking up, so as to call his attention to her, and give him time to make himself decent.

“Ah— Miss Wilkes, good morning,” he greeted from over his shoulder, buttoning up his shirt. “Please, give me a moment.”

“Good morning, Carlisle. Take your time.”

_ Take all the time you need, _ she thought, immediately chastising herself for having inappropriate thoughts about her Divine Guide.

He finished up, tying his tie as he turned to face her, his usual smile on his face, as if the night prior had never happened.

“Did you sleep well, Miss Wilkes?”

Despite how polite the question was, it emphasized the distance between them. He was holding her at arm’s length, only being polite, and nothing else.

It was for the best, and she knew that, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Yeah, thanks,” she lied. She didn’t feel like telling him that she had had a nightmare about her father’s head being crushed by the stage light.

It seemed she was putting distance between them in her own way, too.

“Our train for Columbus leaves around 2:00 PM, Miss Wilkes. Shall we have some breakfast, and then head to the station?”

Business as usual, it seemed. Her vacation was done, and now, she had to face her oddly supernatural reality.

As they checked out of the inn that morning, luggage in hand, Theo noticed a certain tension in the air, particularly around the innkeeper’s wife. When their eyes met, she noticed that she was on the verge of tears.

Leaving Carlisle to the specifics of checking out, she approached the innkeeper’s wife.

“Hi, sorry…” she started, her voice low and awkward. “Um… are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she sighed with a wave of her hand (and the rag she was holding), her voice breaking. Obviously, this woman was anything but fine. Theo gave her a questioning, but reassuring, look, urging her to continue. “My dear girl, I’m sorry— it’s my husband.”

“Is something the matter?”

“I found out…” she started, her voice breaking once more, the tears flowing down her cheeks. “I found out he’s... having an affair.”

“Oh, no—” That was all Theo could get out before the woman burst into tears, holding her rag to her face to muffle her cries. Giving her an awkward pat on the shoulder, she looked around for any sort of assistance, to no avail.

“I saw them together, last night,” the woman continued, practically hysterical. Theo really felt she wasn’t qualified to give this lady any sort of life advice, but she supposed she could hear her out, at least. “I always thought I was a good wife, and that we were happy together, but I had no idea…”

“I’m sorry,” was all she could say. She didn’t even know this woman’s name, so she couldn’t comfortably assure her on the quality of her marriage. “Uh— have you talked to him?”

“Not yet,” she sighed, dabbing her tears with her rag. “I’m so sorry, my girl. Thank you for listening to my woes.”

Theo nodded, gave her another awkward pat on the shoulder, and an awkwardly reassuring smile, then rejoined Carlisle. Casting one final look towards the woman, she hoped that she would be able to sort everything out.

But alas, she felt she couldn’t do much more. She had her  _ own _ problems to worry about.

After a painfully polite morning, a callously conscientious afternoon, and a stiflingly stiff early evening, they finally made it to the inn in Columbus. The majority of the train ride had been silent, with only stolen glances between Theo and Carlisle.

While talking was kept to a minimum, the conversation from the night prior was still fresh in her mind. She was sure it was the same for him, too.

When they reached the inn, it had been an entire day of minimal conversation, and she was starting to feel the strain. Plopping her luggage on the bed, she fixed him with a half-hearted, annoyed look.

“Okay. Enough.”

“Miss Wilkes?” he asked, his eyes wide. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes!” she cried out, gesturing vaguely between the two of them. “ _ This _ . This is wrong!” He blinked, his mouth pulling down into a concerned frown. “Listen, Carlisle. I know we had… a weird moment last night, but I want to go back to how it used to be. I don’t want to be treated like your client, I want to be your friend.”

He sighed, lowering his gaze.

“I apologize, Miss Wilkes,” he mumbled. “I was unsure of how to treat our relationship after you voiced your concerns yesterday evening.” Approaching her, he extended his hands— perhaps to take hers— before flinching, and returning them to his side, awkward and unsure. “I did not wish to overstep my bounds with you. I only wish to see you happy, healthy, and safe.”

Her heart melted at his words, soft and unsure and painfully held back. She wanted to launch herself into his arms, to hug him tight, and tell him it was fine, and he had been doing a perfect job so far.

Instead, she smiled at him, opening her arms to him.

“You’re doing just fine, Carlisle. Let’s just…” she trailed off. She wanted to say  _ keep the romance to a minimum _ , but that felt a bit callous. “Let’s just be more careful of our boundaries, okay? We can still be friends, though.”

Heaving a sigh of relief, he hugged her.

“That is wonderful to hear, Miss Wilkes. Thank you.”

As he held her in his arms, part of her felt that she had just made a terrible mistake. Deep down, rationally, she knew that the boundaries between them were necessary. But, by the same token, pretending to be “just friends” would prove to be borderline impossible over the course of time.

Even if there were only four creditors left, that was still  _ at least _ four days, spent almost  _ entirely _ by Carlisle’s side. With the exception of her meetings with the creditors, every second of every day would be spent with his beautiful face constantly tempting her.

She could pretend all she wanted— she was still in trouble.

Once again, Theo awoke on the stage of the Starry-Eyed Fortuna, but this time, she was not alone. In fact, she was anything but. Every seat in the audience was filled, although the stage lights that shone in her eyes made it nearly impossible to see anything other than shadowy masses.

She had the sinking feeling that she was meant to be performing, although she had absolutely no idea what part she was playing, or what any of her lines were.

In other words— in case it wasn’t obvious enough— she was dreaming.

A whimsical symphonic piece picked up, the violins crescendoing with a romantic flourish. It was a piece that seemed vaguely familiar, although she couldn’t place where she had heard it before.

When she looked down at herself, she saw she was in a large ballgown, surely something that was fitting of a princess from a fairy tale. White gloves covered her forearms, and the teeth of a fake tiara were digging into her scalp.

Sure enough,  _ she _ had the leading role of the princess. Which one, she didn’t know, but she was  _ a _ princess, and she supposed that was good enough.

She was hardly lucid enough to argue with the rationale of her dream. If anything, she was just along for the ride.

Turning, she was met with a giant pumpkin carriage— and, just like that, she knew exactly what role she was meant to be playing.

_ Cinderella _ ?  _ Really? _ Isn’t that a bit cliché? The stereotypical rags-to-riches, underdog tale? She had always hated it, but she hated the people who wanted to live out such a fairy tale as their reality even more.

Sure, Theo was one to indulge in a fairy tale daydream every now and again. But she was more of a  _ Rose Red _ kind of girl— not  _ Cinderella. _ The birds did all the hard work in that story, anyway.

“Wait— fair maiden!” a voice called out to her. She was in the middle of an annoyed huff when she turned, her eyes widening when she saw just who the prince was.

Carlisle gave her a princely smile as he raced onto the stage, suave and handsome and oozing charisma. He was decked out in full princely regalia— a sash, a beautifully ornate coat, and a crown of his own.

Suddenly, she didn’t totally mind being Cinderella. In fact, she was perfectly satisfied with it.

Crossing the stage, he took her hands in his, his gentle smile holding unspoken promises of what could be, of what was coming.

After all, in the deep recesses of her mind, she still remembered how the  _ last _ dream went.

“Please. I believe you are the maiden I have been searching for,” he said softly, just for her. Theo was acutely aware of the fact that he wasn’t projecting, which really didn’t work in a theatre setting. It was enough to distract her for a few seconds, but  _ only _ a few seconds.

Bowing, he kissed her hands with a flourish, the perfect picture of a prince. As he kneeled on one knee, he pulled out a glass slipper, and held it out to her.

It fit perfectly.

“You are!” he breathed, completely exhilarated. The whole scene seemed to sparkle and shimmer, the audience fading away in a pastel cloud of dreamy bubbles. “Oh, please, fair maiden, might I know your name?”

“Cinderella,” she recited, her heart fluttering in her chest. Carlisle remained on one knee, beaming at her, adoration written into his smile.

“I would love to have you as my queen, Cinderella. Please, would you do me the honor?” he asked, his eyes sparkling.

“I would!” she cried, knowing she wasn’t following the script, but rather, her heart. Falling to her knees, she took his hands in her own. “Oh, Carlisle— I will!”

His eyes searched her face as he cupped her cheek, bringing her in closer for The Kiss that graces every fairy tale: True Love’s Kiss. His lips captured hers, and she could feel him smiling as he pulled her closer.

Cheers exploded from the audience, just like the cheers she had heard so many times before.

Without breaking the kiss, Carlisle scooped Theo into his arms, carrying her as a princess (or a bride) ought to be carried. She looped her arms around his neck, indulging in every aspect of the fantasy.

The curtain fell. Part of her expected him to put her down, tell her  _ well, that was a good show, old girl, _ and desert her to return to the privacy of his dressing room. After all, that was what  _ usually _ happened.

But no. Not  _ this _ time.

Breaking the kiss, he laughed lightly, and pressed his forehead to hers while he carried her offstage, never once putting her down. She really, truly felt like a princess— something that part of her had always dreamt of.

With a gentle kick to the dressing room door, they entered his personal room— which was much fancier than the typical, grungy dressing rooms that populated the Starry-Eyed Fortuna.

The door closed behind them, cutting them off from the rest of the dream world that they were in. Carlisle was starting to get that darker, lustful look in his eye— one that Theo recognized with a great deal of excitement.

Although she wasn’t entirely aware of it, she wanted to indulge, and, for the moment, she  _ could _ .

“Theo—” he started, his voice deep and husky and heavy. He was promptly cut off by her kiss, a deep chuckle reverberating through the embrace. His strong arms held her without issue, keeping her secure in his grip.

Breaking the kiss, her eyes flicked up to his, her heart squeezing in her chest as she wound her hand into his hair.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice wavering under the weight of the words. He smiled— somehow knowingly— and kissed her in response. She attempted to break the kiss to tell him just how much he meant to her, how he gave her solace in the frightening world that she had found herself in, how he was her haven, her sanctuary, her pillar of strength…

However, his feverish kisses continued to interrupt her. Not that she minded so much. The time for words was well past.

This became more apparent when he confidently glided towards the bed— which must have miraculously appeared, because most dressing rooms were not equipped with glamorous, four-poster canopy beds.

With endless grace, he laid her down onto the silk sheets. His eyes were half-lidded, dangerously seductive as he took her hand and kissed it, still the perfect picture of a prince. This was just the perfect picture of a prince on his wedding night, as opposed to what the fairy tales  _ usually _ covered, that was all.

“Carlisle—” she gasped, her breath catching in her throat as he placed a kiss to the pulse on her wrist, his eyes flashing to hers.

“Hmm?” he hummed, a mysterious, playful smile on his lips as he kissed her pulse again. Her stomach was tightening as she gazed at him— she wanted him, and she wanted him more than she had wanted anyone in her life.

“I want—” she breathed, cutting herself off. When he looked at her again, kissing her fingertips, her words froze on her tongue.

“What do you want, Theo?” he asked, obviously knowing full well what she wanted, but teasing her, regardless.

It was hard to imagine Carlisle ever denying her anything she wished, but here he was, dragging it out as long as he could.

“Perhaps… this?” He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “Or… this?” Turning her hand over, he kissed her palm. Once again, his eyes flicked to hers, a dark shimmer emerging from the deep grey-blue of his irises. “Or perhaps…” he murmured, leaning over her, taking her chin in his hand. “This?”

“All of it,” she breathed. “I want it all.”

“Then allow me to oblige,” he smirked, not at all the usual Carlisle that she had grown used to. However, in that moment, she hardly cared about how uncharacteristically suave he was. She just wanted  _ him _ .

Kissing her, one arm scooped underneath her, almost cradling her, while the other took her hand, lacing their fingers together. Theo pulled him closer, leaning into the kiss.

His hand traveled down her back, towards her rump, although the volume of the skirt made it difficult to feel any sort of sensual touches.

As much as she wanted this to happen, something nagged at her. As if this wasn’t right, or she was somehow breaking the rules.

Carlisle had just started to slide his hand under her skirts, the smooth skin of his palms grazing her thigh, when she realized that this couldn’t be reality.

“Oh!” she gasped, breaking the kiss, staring wide-eyed into Carlisle’s face. “I’m dreaming!”

And, in a blink, she woke up in the inn in Columbus, hundreds of miles from the theatre. However, she was much closer to Carlisle than she had been anticipating.

_ Much _ closer.

After all, he was holding her in his arms, her face pressed into his chest as he slept. Her heart was still pounding from the dream she had just had—  _ really _ , what was wrong with her? That was the second dream about him that she had had! What was she, a teenager? She needed to get a grip!

Her heartbeat never slowed down, not for a second, as she was pressed flush against the  _ literal  _ man of her dreams.

The thought occurred to her, for just a moment, that she might talk in her sleep. Suddenly, the butterflies in her stomach were replaced with anxious, stinging bees. The very thought of admitting that she was having dreams like  _ that _ was enough to make her an embarrassed mess, but if she had to admit as much after talking in her sleep… after possibly  _ moaning _ in her sleep… or worse, moaning  _ his _ name...

Well, she would probably tell Harrington to just call it a day, and sign her up for eternal servitude. It would be better than continuing on in that sort of embarrassment. Hell, she’d be  _ volunteering. _

Collecting herself, she leaned back, peering into Carlisle’s sleeping face. It had struck her as odd, for a few days now, that he would even have to sleep. It didn’t seem that he needed to eat, so why did he have to sleep?

Almost against her will, she raised her hand, and gently traced the outline of his cheekbone with her fingertip.

“You really are gorgeous,” she whispered with the bare beginnings of a smile. As she gazed at his face, his cheeks gradually began to turn a rosier and rosier color. Her smile slipped from her face, and she retracted her hand. “Oh  _ god _ —”

“I am really quite sorry, Miss Wilkes…” he mumbled, covering his face with both hands.

“You were  _ awake _ ?!” she shrieked, bolting upright, her face bright red.

“I apologize!” he fretted, curling into himself. “I do not sleep, Miss Wilkes! I have been awake this entire time!”

“Then why were you holding onto me?!”

“You were fretting in your sleep! I thought you were having a nightmare!” he cried, looking at her with pleading eyes from between his fingers.

“Unbelievable!” she shouted, pushing herself out of the bed, grabbing whatever clothes she saw fit, and moving behind the screen. Violently pulling her nightgown over her head, she threw her head back, and huffed, loud and annoyed. “You could have  _ warned _ me! Didn’t you know I was awake?!”

“Miss Wilkes—” he whimpered, getting out of bed. His footsteps came closer, and closer. “I deeply apologize— but I  _ do  _ appreciate the compliment! In fact, it means the world to me—”

To add onto this already-unfortunate mess, Theo thought he would have the common sense to stop  _ before _ he passed the threshold of the changing screen. Unfortunately for her, he was  _ incredibly _ gullible, and marched over, right in time to see her in nothing but her unmentionables.

“CARLISLE!” she screamed, making a poor excuse of covering herself with her blouse.

“I—!” he yelped, covering his eyes, and spinning around. “I  _ APOLOGIZE _ !” He marched away, never once taking his hands from his eyes, and promptly ran into the opposite wall, yelping again.

With a heavy sigh, Theo finished changing into her clothes, and stepped out from behind the changing screen. Carlisle was sulking, sitting on the far edge of the bed, his back to her.

“Carlisle?” she asked, coming closer. “I’m done.” He didn’t look at her, instead looking fixedly at his hands. With a slight sigh, she took a seat next to him, placing her hand atop his. “I’m sorry for snapping. Are you angry with me?”

“No, I could never be upset with you, Miss Wilkes,” he admitted. “I am… ashamed of myself.”

“Why?”

“I am hardly fitting to be a Divine Guide. To think, I am acting in such a reprehensible manner,” he fretted, taking her hand into both of his. “I am not used to mortal socialization, or polite society, or anything of the sort. It hardly ever comes up in Accounting. I simply push papers, and keep the books nice and tidy.”

“I don’t know, I think you’re doing a swell job,” she smiled. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

He smiled a bit at this, but it quickly faded. His eyes remained fixed on their hands as he spoke, his voice low.

“That is true, yes, however… I continue to upset you. This morning, for instance— or yesterday, or the day before that…” he trailed off, his eyes lifting until they met hers. Their faces were only mere inches apart, the silence between them worth its weight in gold. “I only wish to see you happy. Even if…”

Against her better judgment, she inched even closer, far too aware of their closeness, of the dreams she had been having, of  _ him  _ and his presence and every unsure feeling they had for each other.

“‘Even if’...?” she repeated, leaning even closer, her gaze dropping to his lips.

“Even if… we are to be apart at a later date,” he whispered, squeezing her hand, slowly closing the distance between them.

Her mind screamed at her to regain her senses, but she just couldn’t help it. He was right there, ready and willing. It wasn’t a dream, and she wanted it so badly— what harm could one little kiss do?

A harsh pounding at the door broke them out of their lovestruck stupor, along with a loud, gravelly voice.

“Oi! Are you two the ones screaming so early in the morning?!”

Casting a glance towards Carlisle, Theo got up, and opened the door, giving the irate innkeeper her apologies. He wasn’t as understanding, however, and told her to keep it down unless she wanted to be thrown out onto the street.

Closing the door, she grimaced as she leaned against it, gathering her senses once more.

“I suppose we should go find Harrington, shouldn’t we?” she chuckled, her cheeks rosy. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she buckled her shoes. “What’s the rule this time?”

“Mister Harrington…” Carlisle mused. “He is the most powerful of the creditors at this time. He has a rather solid grip on mortal society at the moment, so I am afraid he will have the advantage of numbers.”

“I’ll get ready to fight my way out, then,” she half-teased. If she was being honest, it was far too likely that she  _ would _ have to fight her way out. After all, hadn’t that basically happened several times already?

“As for what to avoid… I would say it might suit you best to avoid indulging in materialistic goods.”

“‘Indulging’ as in  _ using _ or as in  _ buying _ ?”

“... Buying.”

“Piece of cake.”

As they walked to the auction house that Harrington ran, Carlisle’s expression became increasingly stormy.

“Is something the matter?” Theo asked.

“Oh… I simply remembered something a little less than savory,” he grumbled, something that he rarely did. When she gave him an inquisitive look, he plastered an uncomfortable smile to his face. “I was simply thinking that I should buy our tickets to Chicago next, and, well…” he trailed off for a moment before grumbling, “I realized that the next creditor you are due to meet is none other than Mister Vabsley, himself.”

Vabsley? The memory hit her— another instance where Carlisle had seemed uncharacteristically negative. When he first told her about Vabsley, he had also seemed quite angry, if not hateful.

He had also mentioned that he and Vabsley had had a “personal altercation” of some sort, hadn’t he? How had they met? What was their history together?

“What did Vabsley do to you?” she asked, making him flinch.

“Oh? What—? Ah, ehm… what gave you the idea that we have met?”

“Carlisle, really. You can be honest with me— it’ll be easier. No offense, but you’re a terrible liar,” she clicked her tongue. “Listen. If you don’t like the guy, that’s fine. I’m not going to judge you.”

“How kind of you, Miss Wilkes,” he laughed nervously, wringing his hands together. “I am afraid that… well… I have simply seen the reports regarding Mister Vabsley’s behavior, and I find it most incorrigible.”

This struck her as a little odd.

“Only Vabsley? Not the others?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Ah— well… the others are just as awful, yes, however… Mister Vabsley, in particular…” he fumbled, still wringing his hands. “It is… quite a long story, Miss Wilkes.”

“Alright…” she muttered, not quite sure of what to make of his behavior. “Maybe you can tell me this ‘long story’ on the way to Chicago?”

“... Very well.”

They fell silent until they reached the auction house, although it looked far more ornate and imposing than a typical auction house. Its powerful presence created a vortex, sucking in any nearby stragglers, calling them inside, beckoning to them, deep within their hearts. Theo’s necklace pulsed, keeping her grounded, keeping her focused on the moment at hand.

Otherwise, she would have very easily lost herself.

“Well, this is it,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. Casting a look at Carlisle, she put on an air of confidence, despite feeling the opposite. “See you on the other side, then.”

“Best of luck, Miss Wilkes. I have complete and utter faith in you.”

With that, they parted ways. Theo walked inside, entering the sleek lobby, and seeing no one. This had to be the right building— she wasn’t sure what other type of place would have this sort of energy— and yet, there wasn’t a soul in sight.

That is, until the front doors opened behind her. She could barely let out a yelp before a mob of patrons rushed in, shoving her hither and thither. Well over one hundred people squeezed through the lobby, pushing into the room beyond, chattering amongst themselves as if it was a normal Tuesday.

It wasn’t. It was a normal Monday.

Theo struggled to collect herself; righting her hat, tucking her hair back into place, and checking her general appearance took a few extra seconds than necessary.

“The nerve!” she hissed as she fixed her stocking.

“Oh, ‘scuse me, miss!” a voice greeted, approaching her as she was doubled over, fixing her shoe. Her first meeting with this individual was with their shoes— pristine, brand-new, black and white spats. The best brand that money could buy, no less.

As she looked up, somewhat cautiously, she was met with an immaculately dressed person with an incredibly friendly face. They had a mop of bushy, black hair, and bright (if not oddly glazed over) hazel eyes.

“You must be Miss Wilkes,” they smiled.

_ Great, not again, _ she thought, straightening, and taking their outstretched hand.

“I’m Billie!” they beamed, shaking Theo’s whole body with an overenthusiastic handshake.

“Ah— I’m Theo Wilkes,” she smiled, a little flustered, but otherwise unbothered.

“Lovely to meet you, Miss Wilkes. You mind if I call you Theo? That was my cousin’s name— I wonder how he’s doin’...” they trailed off momentarily before snapping back to reality. “Anyway! Mister Harrington’s been lookin’ forward to meetin’ you! I mean, you’re practically famous ‘round here!”

“I am?” she asked, freeing herself from their iron grip. They were quite attractive, with a smile that just oozed Southern Charm. They also seemed much more honest than the last bunch of assistants that she had run into.

“You sure are! Mister Harrington’s gonna be tickled pink to find out you made it here okay!”

_ Is he? _ she thought, and refrained from voicing. Somehow, she felt like she would hurt Billie’s feelings by questioning it— and she felt oddly guilty at the prospect of hurting their feelings.

“We’re just ‘bout to start an auction, but you’re more than welcome to watch, if you’d like.” When Theo nodded, they held out their hand, beaming at her. Theo took it, noticing that Billie must only be about three or four years older than her. Meeting in a place like  _ this _ , however, broke her heart.

They threw everything away at such a young age. She couldn’t help but wonder what sort of circumstances they had had to lead them here.

Whatever it may have been— if anything at all— it didn’t seem to bother them anymore. They were downright sunny as they led her to the main room, where the latest one hundred people had staked their claims alongside another  _ three _ hundred.

“Mister Harrington’s real popular,” Billie noted, rather obviously, and yet, completely obliviously. “I think you’ll like him plenty.”

_ Doubtful, _ she thought.

“I’m sure I will!” she beamed.

“Here, right this way.” Guiding her by the hand, they took a spot closer to the back. As they walked, Theo cast a glance at the crowd, who waited in anxious silence, completely tense. They reminded her of bloodhounds waiting for the hunt, completely still, fixated on their target, ready to charge at any sign of movement. “The crowd tends to get a little riled up when the auction starts, so best stay back, if you can.”

After what she had just gone through, she had no doubt that they would get “riled up”, as they so aptly put it.

“Thanks for your help, Billie,” she smiled softly, lowering her voice to a whisper so as to not disturb the pack of bloodhounds before her. “You’re alright.”

Their eyes widened slightly, and they chuckled softly, averting their gaze. She didn’t mean to fluster them, but found it charming, all the same.

“That’s real sweet of you, Theo, thank you very much,” they mumbled, their hand growing quite warm. She smiled, annoyingly oblivious to her natural charm.

Lights hanging above the auction stage suddenly turned on with a loud  _ clack _ , the room so tensely silent that Theo could hear the lights buzzing.

Carlisle had warned her not to buy anything, and, considering her financial situation, she could feel  _ somewhat  _ confident, at least. She had absolutely no desire for material goods— unless it had sentimental or functional value, she saw little point in buying  _ anything _ .

“Mind if I keep holdin’ your hand, Theo?” Billie asked with a shy smile. Once again, her upbringing in the theatre inconvenienced everyone around her, as she had absolutely no issue with sharing personal space.

“Not at all. Go ahead.”

Keeping her eyes glued to the stage, she stepped onto her tiptoes, peering over the heads of the audience, squeezed together like sardines in a can. A stocky figure stepped onto the stage, twirling his cane, oozing confidence and power and that oddly inhuman energy that all of the creditors had.

This was Phineas Harrington.

The top half of his face was cast into shadow by the top hat that he wore, although she could see his glowing eyes through the shadow, even from that distance. He had a curled mustache and a wiry beard, along with a perpetual grin, giving the illusion of the friendly face of a charlatan.

There was something about him that seemed both welcoming and off-putting. Perhaps it was in the way his eyes scanned the crowd, predatory, hungry… or perhaps she was putting too much thought into it.

A mob of assistants crowded onto the stage after him, carrying the lots for the auction. The items seemed to vary from antique vases to giant wardrobes to torture devices to old-fashioned dresses to live animals in cages. Once they finished setting everything up, they stood by attentively, hands folded in front.

From what Theo could tell, all of them had the same glazed-over look as most assistants tended to have— including Billie.

Harrington broke the silence with a hearty belly laugh.

“Welcome, friends, and good morning!” he greeted, his voice sonorous and musical, almost reminding her of her father.

“Good morning!” the crowd resounded in unison, making Theo flinch. With a twirl of his cane, Harrington grinned at the audience.

“Love to see those returning, smiling faces!” he boomed. There was something in his delivery that nagged at her, that reminded her of Theophilus, but she couldn’t put her finger on what. “This first item today is a rare delicacy, something you can’t do without! Lot number 310, this Ming vase! The auction is on— bidding starts at three thousand dollars!”

“ _ Three thousand _ —?!” Theo hissed, clenching her jaw. That was more money than she had ever seen in her life, and people were going to drop it on a vase that they couldn’t even  _ use _ ?!

The crowd collectively flinched as Harrington began his auctioneer chant, speaking so quickly that she could barely understand what he was saying—

“Three thousand dollar do you wanna bid three three three— have three do I hear three one, three one yes there’s three one do you wanna bid three two two two wanna wanna bid two there’s two how ‘bout three three, yes there’s three, three five—?”

With each new bid, at least five people in the audience jumped at the chance to bid, practically climbing over one another to get the item in question. Others completely ignored the natural flow of the auction, and began to shout out exponentially increasing amounts.

“Five thousand!”

“Nine thousand!”

“ _ Thirteen _ thousand!!”

“All this for a vase?” Theo grumbled, completely stumped. It didn’t seem particularly important, or decorative, or even  _ special _ . It seemed like any regular vase she could get from a pawn shop— a completely apt observation.

Harrington was conning them all.

What was worse, none of the people in the audience seemed particularly well-off. They weren’t in complete squalor, but weren’t exactly the regular Rockefellers, either. She wasn’t sure how they planned to pay for these horrendously-overpriced goods.

Then again, she knew better than to try and reason with patrons of a creditor.

“Sold, to number 5291 for 23 thousand dollars!” Harrington announced with a pound of his gavel. “Next up, Lot number 311, this genuine Peruvian llama!”

Theo’s face curled into a confused grimace as a plump, red-headed woman led the llama onstage. She had never seen a llama before, and wasn’t quite sure what to make of having her first experience in an auction house owned by an otherworldly entity.

“Does he usually sell animals?” she grumbled, somewhat to herself, although her quip didn’t go unnoticed.

“Sometimes. He once sold an elephant— you should’ve seen us try to get it up there!” Billie laughed, shaking their head in nostalgic exasperation.

The woman tied off the llama before taking Harrington’s outstretched hand, grinning from ear to ear.

“Thank you, dear heart,” Harrington laughed heartily, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Theo flinched, her grimace shifting from confused to disgusted.

Harrington wasn’t  _ human _ . What was he doing trying to act like one? And with his assistant, no less! It irked her more than she was anticipating, making her squirm in place.

“Who is that?” she asked, leaning towards Billie. When they stared at her, she added, “The redheaded lady.”

“Oh— her! That’s Clem, she’s Mister Harrington’s wife.”

_ Wife? _ Theo could hardly believe her ears, yet had the sinking feeling that she didn’t want to know any more details regarding their relationship.

“Are you— um… are you married, Theo?” Billie asked, shooting her a sidelong glance, their hand getting warm again.

“Hm? No.”

“Oh… me, either.”

That seemed rather obvious, considering they were stuck  _ here _ . The thought of maintaining a romantic relationship while simultaneously paying back an eternal debt seemed a bit… implausible.

The llama was already up into the 30,000’s. She turned away for a  _ minute _ , and the entire crowd had decided that this animal was worth more than a mansion!

The audience’s energy was feral, some of the members practically foaming at the mouth, clawing at one another, climbing over each other to get closer to Harrington and his goods. It didn’t seem to be about the items, themselves, but rather, about having  _ more _ items.

Quality, not quantity. More and more and more, hoarding until they couldn’t feasibly maintain their lifestyles anymore.

And yet, they were giving away most of their money— or, so it seemed. Most of them seemed to be using credit, anyway. It didn’t sit right with her.

Harrington commanded the crowd’s attention, calling them in, enticing them to buy more and more, a siren song of materialistic hedonism. He kept the grin throughout the entirety of his performance, pointing to various members in the audience, hypnotizing them to hand over their entire lives to him.

Did they want a Civil War era coat?  _ Yes! _

What about a pair of boots from a monopolizer?  _ Yes! _

A set of tires?  _ Yes! _

Victorian teacups?  _ Yes!! _

What did excess mean to anybody in that room? Absolutely nothing! If they could have more, they would have it, even if their money couldn’t cover it. Who cared if they sold their soul? They wanted to have  _ more! _

The assistants acted as the ensemble in this performance of his, echoing him when necessary, and building up the excitement of the crowd.

At one point, Harrington invited a member of the audience onstage, clapping him on the shoulder as if they were old friends.

“Hey, there, pal,” he chortled. “You seem like the type to need a knife thrower’s board.”

“Boy, do I!” the audience member— a man in his 30’s— beamed.

“Then, how ‘bout this, I’ll give you a head start on bidding. We’ll start at, say, 600 dollars?”

“Sounds fair to me!”

_ How is any of this fair? _ Theo thought, still rather bitter, particularly after watching this auction for about an hour, at that point.

“And, just to show you what a good deal you’re getting, we’ll even give you a little demonstration!” Harrington laughed, clapping the man on the shoulder once more. The redheaded woman reappeared— Clem, that was her name— pulling out a large wooden wheel, with leather straps attached to it.

Clem led the man to the wheel, and strapped him in nice and tight, giving a dazzling, all-American smile to the audience as she gestured to the man. At that point, Harrington stepped up, and, with a great deal of force, gave the wheel a spin.

The man spun and spun, looking like the happiest person on earth.

As the man spun, Harrington picked his pocket, taking out his wallet, and leafing through its contents.

“Friend, you’re a real good sport. Now, unless any other bidders want this fine piece—”

“I’ll give you 800!”

Harrington nodded, taking out all of the cash in the man’s wallet, and pocketing it for himself. When he finished, he somehow managed to shove the wallet into the man’s mouth while he continued to spin.

“850!”

“900!”

“No! I’ll give you 1,500!”

The man mumbled protests, his mouth full of his leather wallet. Harrington made a big show of attempting to listen to him, and nodding.

“This fine gentleman just made the bid of eight thousand dollars. Going once… going twice… sold! To our good ol’ pal, here.”

It was a good thing this auction house was being run by an inhuman presence, otherwise, it would have been shut down a  _ long _ time ago.

Clem wheeled the man— who was still attached to the device— offstage, and Harrington returned to his podium.

“Now, then, would anyone like to practice their knife throwing?” he joked. No one said a word, the silence overwhelmingly uncomfortable. It didn’t seem to bother him much, though. “No one? Suit yourselves. How ‘bout a brand new Ford?”

“Yes!” the crowd cried in unison, their voices reaching a fever pitch.

The cry seemed to fuel him, feeding into his frenzied auctioneering. Leaning forward, the top hat obscured his face as he slammed his fist down on the podium, only the corners of his grin exposed.

**_“YES!”_ ** he boomed. “DO YOU WANT MORE?”

_ “YES!” _

“WE WANT MORE!”

“WE WANT MORE!”

**_“WE NEED MORE!!”_ **

Their voices continued to build, louder and louder, until the building was practically shaking from the volume of their cries. They stomped their feet, reaching for Harrington, forming into a massive mob that was racing for the stage, climbing over one another in a desperate attempt to reach the stage.

Harrington continued to pound the podium, he and his assistants riling up the crowd more and more with every chant.

Pointing his cane out over the crowd, he roared, “TELL ME WHAT YOU  _ NEED!” _

To which, the audience roared back, in unison,  _ “EVERYTHING!!” _

Theo shrank back from the audience, pushing her back against the wall. Squeezing her hand, Billie gave her a subtle wink, and nodded towards the lobby doors. Nodding back, she allowed herself to be escorted out of the lion pit that had once been an auction house.

There was no making sense of the chaos in that room.

Even once they were in the lobby, the patrons’ cacophony was loud enough to drown her out. She could still hear the chants, yes, but now she could hear screaming and sobbing, as well.

_ “AT LEAST YOU’RE ALIVE!” _ Harrington roared, followed by maddening, deep laughter. It sent a chill down her spine.

“Quite somethin’, ain’t it?” Billie grinned, seemingly unbothered by the bloodbath.

“Too much for me, personally.”

“You get used to it,” they shrugged. “C’mon, I’ll go ahead and take you to Mister Harrington’s office. You can wait there, and I’ll let him know you’re ready.”

As Billie led her to Harrington’s back office, she couldn’t help but think that there was absolutely no point in watching the auction. Then again, perhaps she just resented everyone in there for spending money like it didn’t matter.

To her, money mattered. A  _ lot _ . Every cent, in fact.

Once they reached the office, Billie pulled out a chair for her.

“Wait here. Mister Harrington will be ready in just a few.”

“Thanks, Billie,” she smiled over her shoulder. They flinched, just slightly, and averted their gaze, the makings of a shy grin blossoming on their face.

“Let me— go find him.”

And with that, they left her in Harrington’s office. The opposing wall was covered in safes, and she could only imagine that was where he was storing the indecent amount of money he was conning out of his patrons.

She had plenty of unladylike opinions about men like him.

The door opened behind her, making her turn around. Harrington entered, just as oddly-trustworthy-yet-still-completely-untrustworthy as he was from a distance. His eyes still glowed under his hat, most of his face cast in shadow.

Theo stood, facing him with much more confidence than her previous creditors. As soon as he saw her, he chortled, spreading his arms out wide.

“Ah!” he beamed. “You must be Phil’s daughter!”

She thought she had been prepared for anything. As usual, she was  _ quickly _ proven wrong. Being referred to as “Phil’s daughter” was not something that she had mentally prepared herself for.

“Oh— here, please, sit down.” Waving his hands about wildly, he held the chair for her, scooting her in when she took a seat. “My dear, you have no idea how relieved I am to see you here. I am so glad you’ve made it this far west!”

Once again, her face screwed up into a confused grimace. Harrington took a seat across from her, resting his hands on his belly, and smiling at her.

“I’m sorry— um… what?” she stumbled, unable to keep up. She was starting to get whiplash from how she was being treated. “You’re Mister Harrington, yeah?”

“Yep!” he laughed, digging out his card holder, and passing a business card over to her. Sure enough, it had the same neat type as The Entity’s, and said

**PHINEAS G. HARRINGTON**

_ This is the guy, alright, _ she thought, sounding bitter, even to herself. What did the  _ G _ . even stand for? Why did he bother having a middle name when he wasn’t human?

She was left with more questions than answers, as per usual.

“I have to say, you’re a real chip off the old block,” Harrington nodded, taking off his top hat, and dusting it off.

Really, other than the glowing eyes and perpetual grin, he looked like any normal middle-aged man. Portly, friendly… and somehow gave off the energy that he was distantly related, or perhaps an old family friend.

“What do you mean?” she asked, tucking his business card into her purse.

“You look exactly like Phil! Oh, but I do see plenty of your mother in you, too.” His words only served to put her more on edge. He was making it sound like he was  _ really _ familiar with her father.  _ Too _ familiar. “I’m terribly sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral. I thought it might make some folks ill-at-ease.”

After Robertson, and Walker, and Dods, she was prepared to have to fight against every creditor, tooth and nail. However, Harrington gave her an odd sense of comfort, as if it was a meeting between family friends, and not creditor and debtor.

Catching herself slipping, she reminded herself that he was still a creditor, despite his seemingly-friendly nature.

“My dear,” he started, his voice low. He sighed, and leaned across his desk, offering his hand to her. She didn’t take it. “I understand that you have met some of my associates, and they are not exactly kind, to your father, or to you. I want you to know, though, that your father was a dear friend of mine, and I have no interest in harming his only family.”

For a second, she almost believed him. Then, Dods’ words rang through her mind once more:  _ we are not obligated to tell you the truth. You are simply naive enough to believe us. _

Needless to say, she was hesitant to put her trust in him.

“I didn’t think you creditors were capable of making friends,” she stated, rather pointedly.

“It can happen.” With a sigh, he retracted his hand. “Phil and I knew each other for a long time. We met long before you were even born.”

“But you still wanted his soul,” she jabbed, glaring at him. “You can’t just hunt him for  _ years _ , and then claim you were friends.”

Her voice was sharp, but only to hide the waver within it. To have someone she perceived as her enemy flat-out  _ pretend _ to be close to her father was despicable.

Harrington watched her, not with hunger— as the other creditors had— but with pity. Leaning over, he opened his desk drawer, and began to rifle through the contents until he produced a piece of paper. Sliding it over to her, face-down, he leaned back, and continued to watch her. When she didn’t take it, he nodded to it, silently urging her to take it.

So she did. She picked up the paper, turned it over, and gasped.

It was a photograph. In it, Harrington (who looked much the same) stood next to a much-younger Theophilus, both of them beaming to the camera, arms slung over their shoulders. They looked like a pair of childhood friends.

It was the first time she had seen her father’s face since the night he died.

Tears flooded her vision, her stomach twisting itself into a knot as she looked at the photograph. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the image of a younger, happier Theophilus.

“He must have been about your age when we took that.” Theo’s eyes flicked up, tears finally spilling over, and trailing down her cheek. Harrington’s brows furrowed, and he gently pointed at her. “You should have that.”

“But— it’s a picture of you.”

“Your father adored you, Miss Wilkes. He would want  _ you  _ to have it, not some creature parading as a human.” Giving her a reassuring smile, he continued, “Besides, my memory’s photographic. I remember what he looks like, not a problem at all. Not at all.”

With no shortage of hesitation, she brought the photo down to her lap, holding onto it with shaking hands.

“In all honesty, my dear, I don’t  _ want _ your soul. I didn’t want Phil’s, either. I just knew he’d be better off here than with the others,” he sighed, just as a knock came to the door. “Excuse me a moment. Come in!”

The door opened, and the redheaded woman popped her head in, holding a tray. The smell of freshly-baked cookies drifted into the office, immediately calling Theo’s attention.

“Sorry, Finny. I thought our guest might want some cookies.”

“Oh, Clem! You darling!” he chortled, waving her in. “Miss Wilkes, this is my wife, Clementine. Clementine, this is Phil’s daughter, Theodora.”

Clementine bobbed over, placing the tray down on the desk, and immediately taking Theo’s hands in her own, giving her a bright smile. Her eyes were glazed over, just as the other assistants’ were, but she still had a certain clarity about her that the others lacked.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Theodora, darling!” she beamed. “Oh, come here, honey!” Throwing her arms around her, she squeezed the life out of her. “I’ve wanted to meet you for so long! We just  _ loved _ Phil’s visits!”

“Ack— it’s nice to meet you, ma’am—” Theo choked, half-heartedly returning the hug. Clementine leaned back, looking her over.

“You poor dear, being left all alone. Are you doing okay? Eating enough? Getting enough sleep? What about the theatre? Are you able to manage alright?” she fretted. Once more, she brought Theo into a vice grip of a hug. “Oh, you poor thing!”

“Clem, you’re going to crush the poor girl.”

“Maybe so, but when was the last time this poor dear had a right proper hug?” Clementine cooed, giving Theo one more squeeze, for good measure. “Anything you need, darling, and you come ask your Aunt Clementine, okay?”

“Uh— yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

“None of that ‘ma’am’ business! We’re practically family!”

_ Are we? _

“Sit down, honey, and have some cookies. You’re too thin. Have you been eating enough?” Clementine guided Theo back to her chair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Eat up, honey. If you want more, just let your Aunt Clementine know.”

Glancing at Harrington, she noticed how amused he looked. He didn’t seem to mind that Clementine was cutting into their meeting time— in fact, he seemed to welcome it.

“Finny, can’t you do something to help this poor girl?” she asked, wandering over to him. Holding out his arm for her, he put his arm around her waist, resting it on her hip as she stood next to him. “We feel just awful about what happened to Phil. It was just plain tragic, that’s what it was.”

While Theo had been a little more suspicious of Harrington, his wife seemed perfectly candid. It was difficult to fake that sort of kindness, and, paired with the photograph that he gave her, she was becoming more and more inclined to believe that they weren’t her enemies.

For once.

“Well, Clem, we have to respect Phil’s wishes. He didn’t want her to be involved in his mess, and we should help her along her way.”

“Wait—” Theo interrupted, looking between the two of them. “He didn’t?”

“Phil? Of course not. He wanted none of this to reach  _ you _ .” Opening up his desk drawer once more, he pulled out the contract, and unfurled it, pointing to a specific paragraph. “Right here. Part of his terms were that none of us would target you, or his wife.”

“Then, how did I—?”

“There is a loophole,” he sighed. “In the case of debt withstanding at the time of death— and the death not directly caused by the creditor that is collecting— the debt is passed on to his next of kin. Because of the nature of his death, none of us could collect.”

“Did he know about this?”

“I thought he did!” Throwing his hands into the air, he rubbed his face, looking utterly exhausted. “As long as one of us collects, the debt will be filled. I warned Phil not to try and splice the contract, but he wouldn’t listen.”

That sounded about right. Her father was a stubborn man, and always did things his way, no matter what the consequences might have been.

“Do you know why he did this?” she asked, her voice thick in her throat. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to continue, “Why he… sold his soul?”

Harrington nodded, lacing his fingers together.

“It was all for you.” Her stomach dropped into the pits of her core, the blood draining from her face. Her father made such a dangerous deal… for  _ her _ ? “He sold his soul to keep the theatre as successful as possible, in order to make your life easier for you.”

“But—” she fumbled, losing her words.

“The contracts were signed 21 years ago… a week after you were born,” he explained, his eyes downcast. “He came here, absolutely frantic. It had been storming all day, and he was dripping wet, in such a tizzy that he didn’t even pack his coat.”

Harrington’s eyes flicked up to hers, and he began to recall the events of that fateful date for her, painting such a clear picture, she felt as if she could have really been standing there in his office, 21 years prior.

“You don’t understand!” Theophilus— Phil, to his friends— cried, soaked to the bone, his hair sticking to his forehead. “She was in labor for ten hours, Phineas!  _ Ten! _ All of that, and she and our daughter  _ still  _ could have died!”

“Phil, you’re distraught—”

“You’re damn right, I’m distraught!” he shouted, tears springing to his eyes. “I held that little girl in my arms, and something in me  _ changed _ , Phineas. She has part of me in her. I’m her…” he stopped, his voice breaking. “I’m her papa.”

Harrington couldn’t have children of his own, and thus, could only pretend to understand the emotions that his friend must have been burdened with.

“I can’t let anything happen to her,” Phil said, his voice filled with resolution. “I’ve already talked to the others. My mind is made up.”

“Which others, Phil?”

“All of them. You’re the last.”

“You didn’t!” Harrington cried, getting to his feet. “Phil, you have no idea what you’re getting into! They’re vicious! They don’t understand humanity like I do!”

“What do  _ you _ know of humanity?!” Phil shouted, actually shocking Harrington. He had always been so level-headed, if not a little grandiose. Sure, he had a flair for the dramatic, but he didn’t usually let it consume him. He seemed to realize himself, as he rubbed his face, and sighed. “Sorry, old chum. I didn’t mean to shout.”

The silence weighed between them, resting unsteadily on their shoulders. Harrington watched him, watched his movements, gauged his emotions.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to her. I want her to be safe, and taken care of, so she can have a good life,” he whispered, his voice wavering. “My little Theodora.”

With a sigh, Harrington got to his feet, and clapped his friend on the shoulder. They exchanged weary smiles, the smiles of those who knew they were making a horrible mistake, and knew that it was a necessary choice.

“As you said, you’ve already made up your mind. So let me make you a deal, Phil,” he started, clicking his tongue. “When the time comes, let me collect.”

“A bit of a desperate sales pitch, isn’t it?” Phil half-joked.

“At least you can guarantee that I’d look after your wife and daughter. I won’t use them against you. That’s more than you can say for youngsters like Devereux, or Vabsley.” With a shake of his head, he frowned, his voice filled with disdain. “Those two would go after them, use them as leverage. Vabsley— I’ve seen him put his clients in violent frenzies, just to fulfill their wishes. He thrives off of blood, Phil. Devereux, much the same.

“So when your little girl is grown up, and you feel confident that you can leave this plane behind… let me be the one to help you. She could even  _ visit _ , if she so wanted! But you’re playing a dangerous game, Phil. It’s one hell of a long con.”

Phil listened, keeping his eyes glued to the floor, and his hand over Harrington’s. He had the look of a man that knew he had just sold his life away, and had made his peace with it. His hand trembled, yes, but he knew he had to do what he had to do.

“Is it worth it?” Harrington asked in a strained whisper.

“Keeping my daughter safe, keeping the theatre running smoothly, and giving my family the stability they need…” Phil said, biting his quivering lip. “I’d do it all again, a thousand times.”

The words fell between them, resolute, and yet, oddly lacking. There was nothing to say. There they stood, the rain pouring outside, filling the deafening silence that had settled between them.

“Here,” Phil finally said, digging into his pocket, and pulling out a piece of paper. Folding it up, he passed it to Harrington with a pained smile. “In honor of our promise. Collateral. You can return this to me when you collect.”

Harrington finished his recollection of that fateful night by taking the paper out of his waistcoat pocket, and placing it on the desk. Theo had listened intently throughout the entirety, biting down her lip to keep herself from crying.

To think… part of her had been blaming her father for getting her in this mess, when he had done all of it for her, in the first place.

So how had she still ended up here? Why didn’t he let Harrington collect?

“He never let me collect, but in honor of my deal with your father, I will return it to you once you beat me at my game.”

“You’re so sure I’ll beat you?” she asked, her voice wavering. Harrington nodded, the ghost of a smile forming under his mustache.

“You’ve made it this far. Only Phil’s daughter could have that much guts.”

“It’s true, Theodora,” Clementine added with a gentle smile. “Your father was a wonderful man, and you are most  _ certainly _ his daughter. He would be so proud of you.”

“He  _ was _ proud of you. Always.”

She sniffed, tears streaming down her face, but their words brought a smile to her face. Running her fingertip under her waterline, she took a deep breath, and gave her the best impression of Theophilus’ smile she had.

“Then let’s do it.”

Harrington smiled, his eyes crinkling as he nodded, and chuckled. Unstacking three small cups that had been sitting on the edge of the desk, he took off his ring, and showed it to Theo. Turning all of the cups upside-down, he placed the ring underneath one of them, obscuring it from view.

“Find the ring, and your contract is broken.”

Easy enough. At least it wasn’t  _ another _ game of chance. It was actually a game of skill, for once. Nodding to Harrington, she fixed her eyes on the cups as he began to switch the cups around, sliding one from the right to the left to the middle to the left to the middle to the right, and so on.

Over and over again, he quickly switched the cups, eventually slowing to a stop.

“Very well, Theodora. Which cup has the ring?” he asked, puffing out his chest as if he took the game perfectly seriously.

Theo had been able to keep track of the cups rather easily, and he didn’t even try to cheat her, like some of the urchins on the streets would. Pointing to the cup on the left, she smiled at him, knowing full well that he had gone easy on her.

Lifting the cup, he released a loud, fake gasp. There was the ring.

“Wow! You did it!” he announced, playing up the drama of the moment. Clementine clapped, grinning from ear to ear. “Well, Miss Wilkes, I guess our contract is broken. Darn!”

“I guess it is,” she giggled, taking a cookie. They were still warm, melty, and gooey— absolutely perfect.

Harrington slid over the folded piece of paper. “For you, my dear.”

Dusting off her gloved hands, she picked up the paper— another photograph, it seemed— and unfolded it. Her smile softened, her eyes becoming misty once again.

“Thank you.”

“You deserve to have it. It’s what he would have wanted.”

Tucking the ring and the photograph into her purse, she took a deep breath. Four down, three to go. All she had to do was meet Cain, Devereux, and Vabsley, get their rings, and she was good to go.

Oh, and she had to juggle her pseudo-romance with Carlisle. _And_ avoid the mobsters and constables. _And_ _also_ make sure The Entity wasn’t starting the apocalypse.

… No problem. Piece of cake.

“You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you like, my dear, but I’d understand if you would want to be on your way,” Harrington smiled, putting his arm around Clementine’s waist once more. She snuggled him, giving Theo a warm smile.

Had she just been somewhat adopted by a creditor and his soulless wife? Perhaps.

“I appreciate it, but I should get going,” she smiled. This was about the point in time when either the mobsters or the constables would start showing up, and she’d hate to put Harrington or his assistants in danger. He had shown her such kindness, it wouldn’t be right.

“Just remember, you’re always safe here,” Clementine said. “Finny is the strongest creditor right now— he can protect you.”

“She’s hardly a girl that needs protecting!” Harrington chortled. “Maybe  _ she _ should be protecting  _ us _ .” She had  _ definitely _ been adopted, she realized. “In all seriousness, if you ever want a break, you can stop in. Our doors will always be open for you.”

“Thank you, Mister Harrington.”

“Just Phineas is fine, dear child,” he beamed. “Just a note— I do plan on retiring at the end of the decade. Oh, blast— I always forget. When is my last day?”

“October 29th, 1929,” Clementine smiled.

“Thank you, my love. I would lose my head if it weren’t attached.”

“You’re retiring?” Theo asked, cocking her head to the side. “I thought creditors would be around forever.”

“Oh, some young pup will come in and replace me, just as I replaced the last creditor before me. But I’ve been around for 600 years, and I need a break.” She almost shrieked  _ 600 years?! _ but refrained, and was cut off before she could make sense of his statement. “Right then! Stop in any time before then, Theodora, and we can chat over some tea and cookies.”

She was still reeling, but decided to just let it go. As per usual, it was better not to question it too deeply. She would have lost her sanity a  _ long _ time ago if she hadn’t decided to take most of this adventure at face-value.

“I might just have to do that,” Theo smiled, and stood. “Thank you again.” Right as she was gathering her things, and preparing for her final goodbyes— in a much better mood than she had been anticipating— a knock came to the door.

Another assistant popped their head in, with the same glazed-over look as all of the others.

“Sir, there has been quite a ruckus outside,” he said. “We think you should come see this. They seem to be associates of yours.”

Harrington stood, and stepped forward, his expression dark.

“Theodora, stay behind me.”

“No, wait!” she cried, stepping forward, and blocking the door. “If those mobster creeps are out there, then you could get hurt.”

“My dear, I appreciate it, but—”

He couldn’t finish his thought, as Theo raced out of the office, sprinting towards the entranceway. She couldn’t let him do it. He had been a friend of her father’s— helping him, even just a little, was the least she could do.

“Theodora!!” Harrington and Clementine cried, their voices echoing through the hallways. Theo didn’t care. She kept running until she reached the entrance, pushing her way through Harrington’s gaggle of assistants.

“Let me through!” she commanded, shoving people aside as she forced her way through the crowd. The doors were already open— once she reached the front of the crowd, she stumbled out onto the front steps of the auction house.

Sure enough, the constables were standing there, blocking the entranceway, their backs to her.

“Alright, what d’ya want?!” she roared. Immediately, all twelve of the constables flinched (in unison), and spun around. Their hats were pulled down over their eyes, casting a shadow over the top half of their faces.

“Ah—” they all gasped in unison. The constable standing in the front and center held up his hand to the others, and stepped forward. He had a star on his helmet, but otherwise, was indistinguishable from the rest.

“Miss Wilkes?” he asked, thick Chicago accent assaulting her ears.

“Yeah? Who’s asking?” she sneered.

“Oh— ‘scuse me. I haven’t introduced myself,” he tittered, taking his hat off with an audible, sucking  _ thwump _ . She was met with a goofy-looking young man with bright blue eyes, freckles, and a terrible case of hat hair. “I’m Charles Langley, Chief Constable of the Divine Intervention Agency.” Turning to the others, he waved at them. “C’mon, gents. Introduce yourself to the lady.”

“Yessir!” they crowed, each of them taking off their hats (in unison) with a loud  _ THWUMP. _

There, before her, stood eleven other constables that looked completely identical to the first.

“I’m  _ Charles  _ Langley, ma’am!”

“ _ I’m _ Charles Langley, ma’am!”

“I’m Charles  _ Langley _ , ma’am!”

“I’m Charles Langley,  _ ma’am _ !”

“ _ I’m _ Charles  _ Langley _ , ma’am!”

“ _ I’m _ Charles Langley, ma’am!”

“I’m  _ Charles  _ Langley,  _ ma’am _ !”

“I’m  _ Charles Langley _ , ma’am!”

“ _I’m_ _Charles_ Langley, ma’am!”

“I’m Charles  _ Langley _ ,  _ ma’am _ !”

“ _ I’m _ Charles Langley,  _ ma’am _ !”

“It’s a pleasure to be makin’ your acquaintance, ma’am!” they crowed in thick Chicago accents, saluting to her, and clicking their heels together. The assistants behind Theo all began to murmur amongst themselves, a few snickers rising up above the din.

“We’ve been made aware of a little pickle that you’ve gotten yourself into, ma’am, as well as some nasty fellows that’ve been lurkin’ around, so we’re here to fend ‘em off.”

“What the devil is going on out here?!” Harrington roared, emerging from the crowd. “The DIA? What are you boys doing here?”

“Nothin’ to do with your business, sir. Only to do with her,” Charles Langley Prime stated. “Just keepin’ some ne’er-do-wells away. They were ‘bout to start climin’ in through your windows when we showed up.”

“Wait, wait, wait—” Theo stumbled, shaking her head vehemently. “What’s the deal? You guys chased me and Carlisle halfway across Philadelphia!”

“Carlisle?” Harrington asked, shooting her a sidelong glance.

“My Divine Guide.”

“Oh— our ‘pologies, ma’am. We weren’t chasin’ you. We were chasin’ after those scoundrels that were chasin’ after you,” he explained, realization slowly dawning on his face. With a slight grimace, he rubbed his chin. “Though I suppose I see how you reached such a conclusion.”

“Of  _ course _ I did, for crying out loud!” she cried, throwing her arms into the air. “You kept screaming ‘stop in the name of the law’ at me! I thought I was done for!” 

“‘Scuse us, ma’am. We were yellin’ at  _ them _ ,” he tittered. “And not the  _ law _ , but the  _ law _ .”

“Yeah, the law,” she grumbled.

“No, no, the  _ law-d, _ ” he emphasized. “Y’know, the one runnin’ this whole gambit. They’d stop those good-for-nothin’s.”

It took her a moment, but she finally realized that Charles Langley Prime wasn’t saying the  _ law _ , but rather, the  _ lord _ . That accent was really putting her through the wringer— as a New Yorker, she should have figured that was what he was saying.

“You said you have a Guide, ma’am?” Charles asked. Theo nodded. Passing his hat to one of his subordinates, he took out a pad of paper, and a pencil. “Might if I ask you for their name?”

“Carlisle Adamson,” she said.

“Ohhhhh!” the Charleses said in unison, as per usual.

“We know Carlisle!”

“He finally got outta Accountin’, huh?”

“Good for him!”

“Then, ‘scuse us, ma’am. We’ll go ahead and patrol the area, and make sure those scoundrels won’t be givin’ you any trouble any longer.”

“Uh— okay?” she squeaked, clutching her purse in both of her hands. “Then, uh…” Turning around, she nodded to Harrington. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, my dear.”

“Goodbye!” the assistants called, waving at her from within the crowd. They all seemed to be the friendly sort, at least. Nothing like Dods’ assistants. “Come back soon!”

Descending the steps, she inched past the constables, who all replaced their hats, and saluted her, clicking their heels.

“Oh—” she fumbled, spinning to look back at Charles Langley Prime. “Will we be seeing each other again?”

“Most likely, ma’am! You’re somethin’ of a celebrity to the DIA— we gotta look after you!” he grinned, just as goofy as a golden retriever.

“Then, you mind if I call you Charlie?”

“Go right ahead, ma’am!”

With one last smile, she left Harrington’s auction house, walking down the street completely unbothered.

About two blocks down, she ran into Carlisle.

“Hello, Miss Wilkes!” he beamed. “I am relieved to see you are well. You spent quite some time in there… did Mister Harrington give you any trouble?”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” she remarked with a small smile.

“Theo!!” a voice called, accompanied by running footsteps heading straight for them. The stocky form of Billie ran past the corner where she was standing, immediately pulling to a stop, and doubling back. “There you are! I thought I missed you!”

“Billie,” she blinked. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hopin’ to give you this,” they panted, handing her a single red rose. Her eyes widened as she accepted the gift, immediately softening into a genuine, touched smile. “And, well… if you wouldn’t mind… maybe I could steal a kiss?”

_ A kiss! _ she thought. As she had kissed plenty of people before— both on and off the stage— she was about to step forward to oblige them, when Carlisle put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

“I am afraid Miss Wilkes must remain focused on her Divine mission,” he explained with an apologetic smile.

“Oh…” Billie murmured. “Sorry, didn’t realize it was so serious.”

“C’mon, Carlisle,” she smiled, immediately thinking that he must be jealous. With such an opportunity on her hands, how could she  _ not _ act on it? Stepping forward, she pressed a kiss to Billie’s cheek, and beamed. “Thank you for the flower, Billie. It’s beautiful.”

They smiled, and half-shrugged. “It ain’t nothin’.”

“If I can, I’ll stop by on my way back to New York, okay?” Looping her arm through Carlisle’s, she gave Billie a parting smile. As they began to walk away, she waved to them. “Goodbye, now!”

“Bye, Theo!” they beamed, and held a hand to the cheek she kissed.

They walked away, leaving Harrington, his assistants, and the constables behind. Carlisle had already gathered their luggage, and bought their train tickets. Before Theo could even get her bearings, they were on the train, heading westward to Chicago.

Pulling the photograph out of her purse, she unfolded it, and smiled.

“What is that, Miss Wilkes?”

“It’s collateral,” she said, her voice tinged with sad nostalgia. He cocked his head to the side, but didn’t push the matter more. Folding it up, she stuck her parents’ wedding picture back into her purse, and watched the scenery pass the window.

“Billie?” Harrington called as his assistant walked past his office later on that evening. “Come in here a moment.”

“Yessir?” Billie asked, still a little giddy from their kiss from Theo earlier that afternoon. “Is there something you need?”

Setting his jaw, Harrington looked up at his assistant. He knew that Billie had run after Theodora earlier that day, and that they probably had more information regarding the company she was keeping.

“You found Miss Wilkes earlier today, yes?”

“Yessir!”

“And was she alone?”

“No, sir. There was another person with her,” Billie recalled, thinking carefully. “She said his name, but in all honesty, I don’t recall what it was. I believe it started with a C…?”

“Was it Carlisle?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Yessir, that was his name!”

“Now, Billie…” he started, his eyes glowing slightly brighter as he prepared to give his order. “I want you to tell me  _ exactly _ what this man looked like.”


	7. Athelstan Vabsley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween, a Blessed Samhain, or happy Saturday everyone! In the honor of spooky month, I decided to post a day early, on the spookiest day of the year! <3 I hope everyone has a lovely, safe weekend, and the remainder of the year treats you kindly!
> 
> The songs for this chapter are "Me and Mine" and "Long Gone"! Quite a tonal shift between the two, but they're both for our not-so-lovely creditor of the month.
> 
> As always, you can find me on twitter (@soowonheika) and tumblr (longhairedantagonists)!

Theo spent the majority of the train ride staring at her parents’ wedding photo, a nostalgic smile blessing her features. Her mother had been so beautiful, and her father had looked so dapper. Both of them looked undeniably happy— the sparkle in their eyes still shining, despite the age of the photograph.

She hoped they had reunited in the next life, once again singing together, spending the evenings slow dancing in a new kitchen.

As they drew closer to Chicago, they came right into the middle of a summer storm. Rain streaked the window, the intense Midwestern humidity never letting up, even for a second.

“I believe I owe you an explanation, Miss Wilkes,” Carlisle started, unusually somber. “Regarding my… not-so-amicable nature with Mister Vabsley.”

Theo’s curiosity had been eating away at her for quite some time, although she had held her tongue up until that point. She didn’t want to seem like she was badgering him, after all.

“Yeah,” she said. “What’s going on between you two?”

Casting his eyes downward, he seemed to lose himself, drifting in a memory. She kept her eyes glued to him, understanding, but interested. His reaction had been bothering her a little bit— not enough to be any cause of alarm, just enough to bring her attention to the anomaly in his behavior.

“I have had… a somewhat personal altercation with Mister Vabsley, although that was not his name at the time.” Wringing his hands together, he leaned forward, keeping his eyes glued to the floor. “About a century ago, there was a client, not too unlike yourself, Miss Wilkes. They were in grave danger; enough to require Divine Intervention.

“The Divine Guide that the department assigned to them was my supervisor, and friend, Edward. We warned him that it was dangerous, and yet, he did not listen to us.”

“‘Us’?” she asked, her voice soft, unsure.

“The rest of us in Accounting,” he swallowed, setting his jaw. “We are not meant to interfere in the lives of mortals. We are simply the office workers— not nearly as prepared as the field agents.”

_ Like Charlie, _ she thought, catching herself off-guard. Was this why Carlisle didn’t want to see them? Because they might send him back to the office?

“Edward met with Mister Vabsley, and that is when our communications were cut off. Days passed… weeks…” he trailed off, his whole body tense. “He is a horrible creature. Violent. Selfish. I have never encountered another being that cares as little for others as that monster.” His hands were quaking, only slightly; leaning forward, she took his hands into her own.

It was as if she broke him out of a spell, as he suddenly became lucid once again, his emotional eyes flashing up to hers.

“You don’t have to force yourself, Carlisle. I think I understand what happened.”

Pursing his lips, he sighed softly, repositioning their hands so that he held hers, not the other way around. His expression melted into a soft, sad smile as he squeezed her hands.

“Thank you, Theo.”

With a start, her eyes widened at the use of her name, her heart skipping a beat. She thought this had been about  _ him _ , not about  _ her _ ! What was he using her name for?

“My name—” she stammered, far too flustered, considering the circumstances.

His eyes searched hers, filled with purpose. She had never met someone who simultaneously set off every butterfly in her stomach, and yet, made her feel entirely at ease. It was exhilarating.

“You used my name,” she mumbled, fighting off the world’s giddiest smile, her cheeks a bright red.

_ All this for a name? _ she thought, not entirely aware that it wasn’t her own.

Reaching forward, Carlisle grazed her cheek with the back of his fingers, sending delightful shocks through her.

“I know,” he murmured, a serene smile gracing his features. His words, paired with the smile, sent another jolt through her. “I meant to.”

Her heart soared—  _ he loves me, he really loves me _ — the momentum of her emotions sending her forward, ready to finally,  _ finally _ kiss the man before her. Her stomach tied itself into knots in anticipation as she neared his lips.

“Oh, Carlisle—” she breathed, feeling lighter than air.

That was before reality— the cruelest mistress, truly— came crashing down upon her. Jerking to a halt, she stopped only mere centimeters from his lips, her stomach dropping to her feet.

She couldn’t. She had made that promise to herself, and she planned to honor it.

“What is wrong?” he asked, his eyes searching her face. It was just like a few nights ago, all over again. How many times was she going to lose her senses around him? Cupping her cheek, he guided her eyes back towards him. “Theo…?”

“Carlisle… you know we can’t,” she said in a strained whisper, placing her hand atop his. With a sigh, she dropped her hand, and moved away, looking out the window once more. “I just… I can’t do that to you. My feelings haven’t changed.”

“Yes… of course,” he mumbled, averting his gaze.

She didn’t  _ want _ to fight her own feelings for him. She wanted to give in, wanted to be his lover, no matter how selfish it might have made her. She wanted to stop him from leaving… but it would be the same as keeping a bird in a gilded cage.

How could she ever justify stopping him from following his dreams?

With a quiet sigh, he changed seats, instead choosing to sit next to her. Taking her hands in his own, he looked her in the eye, unwavering.

“Would you allow me to be honest with you?”

Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes frantically searching his face. Every heartbeat shook her body, blood rushing in her ears.

“Yes?” she squeaked, immediately overrun with embarrassment. She was such a mess, and he hadn’t even said anything yet!

Taking a deep breath, he tittered, his cheeks turning rosy. She could have  _ screamed _ — he looked nervous, sure, but did he ever think about how  _ she _ was feeling?!

“I must admit, this is the first time that I have…” he trailed off, chuckling quietly. Straightening his posture, he squeezed her hands, looking her in the eyes. “Theo… ever since I have met you, I have been in awe of you, your bravery, and your kindness. You are exceptional, even to Divine standards.

“I understand your wishes, of course. I simply cannot keep my silence any longer. I cannot return to my former life— or even my new one— without telling you how I feel about you. I have never loved anyone before, but I well and truly believe I have fallen for you.” Squeezing her hands, he smiled, at peace with his decision. “I want nothing but the best for you, Theo. I wish to see you live happily… and I wish to remain at your side, for the remainder of your days. If you would have me, I would love you as any mortal would.”

For a few, eternal moments… she thought she was dreaming again. That she must have fallen asleep on the train, thinking of him, and now her mind was making her pay for it.

But, no. This was reality. Surprisingly.

“I have eternity at my disposal, Theo,” he continued, raising her hands and placing kisses to her knuckles. “I have all the time in the universe to continue being a Divine Guide. For now, I want to spend this time with you.”

“Oh—” she breathed, her throat tightening as she threw her arms around him, embracing him. “I love you, too. I feel like I always have!” He was everything she had lost— home, security, comfort… he set her heart, her very soul, at ease. Recoiling from him, she grabbed him by the shoulders, looking at him emphatically. “You really mean it? I’m not gonna stop you from becoming a Divine Guide?”

Laughing lightly, a lilting sound filled to the brim with love and affection, he cupped her face.

“Not at all.” With a smile that held all of the warmth of the sun, he brought her closer, pressing his forehead to hers. His hands had the slightest tremble within them— enough for her to notice. “If it means I can share more time with you, then I will gladly postpone.”

She could kiss him, right then and there. And that was exactly the thing: she  _ could _ kiss him, should he consent. Considering their close calls in the past, she was sure he would.

“Theo?” he asked quietly, his breath hitting her lips, sending an excited shiver through her core. “Might I be so bold as to ask…?” he faltered, releasing a quiet, bitter laugh. “Heavens, no, I could never.”

Her heart was hammering in her chest, only worsening with each of his breaths that caressed her lips. She  _ wanted _ to kiss him, she really did… and yet, part of her hesitated.

With only three debtors left, wasn’t it better to wait? Of course she wanted to start her storybook, fairy-tale, star-crossed romance with Carlisle, but she also wanted to remain focused on the quest before her, just until she saw it through to the end.

His eyes flashed to hers, expectant, the slightest, playful shimmer hidden deep within his irises. He was going to make it  _ exceedingly _ difficult to focus, and she knew that, and yet… good things to those that wait, and all that.

After all, she had made it this far. What was another… what, week or two?

“Carlisle, can you promise me something?” she asked, her voice soft, almost drowned out by the sounds of the train. “Can you wait for me?”

“Wait—?” he blinked, leaning back slightly, looking entirely bewildered.

“We know we love each other— all I’m asking is that you wait until I’m done with all of this malarkey before we become an official couple,” she explained. “Of course, we’re already  _ basically _ a couple, but I don’t want to make anything official until we’re completely done with all of this, and then maybe we can think about our future together— oh, I’m so scatterbrained, and so excited, I just don’t know what to do with myself—”

Tilting her head forward, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, effectively putting a stop to any possibility of further communication.

“Of course,” he smiled. “I will wait for you for as long as you need.”

Theo  _ immediately _ realized that that would be easier said than done. Carlisle would wait for her— and he was a man of his word, she could tell— but could  _ she _ wait for  _ him _ ?

A sinking feeling in her gut warned her that she  _ better _ wait. She still had three creditors to face— in regards to her survival, there were hardly any guarantees.

Now, more than ever, she had a reason to fight back. She had made it that far, she wouldn’t quit now.

“I will gladly wait, however… might I be so selfish as to ask to hold your hand?” he asked, getting that puppy-dog look in his eyes again. Lacing their fingers together, she beamed at him, resting her head on his shoulder.

… What was a little hand-holding,  _ really _ ?

“You never have to ask,” she mumbled, fighting off that giddy smile once more.

Despite her bliss, she had an overwhelming urge to roll her eyes— something that was much harder to shake than she was anticipating. Still, she was eventually able to ignore the urge.

_ Ask him, _ she thought, breaking out of the lovestruck bliss of the moment.  _ Ask him about the DIA. _

Oh, right! She had nearly forgotten.

“Carlisle, you mind if I ask you something?”

“I never mind,” he smiled, completely relaxed. “What is on your mind?”

“Well, you see, I ran into those constables again. The ones from Dods’ store?” Despite the easygoing smile on his face, she could feel him tense, just slightly. “They said they know you. I was just wondering why you didn’t want me to…” she trailed off, suddenly uneasy.

Why  _ did  _ he warn her about them? They were there to help her. They had never meant her any harm. It didn’t make sense.

“Ah, yes… you mean Charles Langley, correct?” he asked, averting his gaze. Letting go of his hand, Theo moved back, staring at him with a furrowed brow.

“Then you  _ do _ know him?”

“Yes, we are acquainted…” he mumbled. “I apologize, Theo. As soon as I realized that the office had alerted the Divine Intervention Agency, I… I thought they saw me as a failure.” His voice was tight, his jaw set.

It was hard to imagine Carlisle having a moment of weakness, or vulnerability, but she supposed that Divine Guides were just as capable of those emotions as humans were.

“It was reckless. I did not wish to endanger you, and yet… I did not wish to lose you to their jurisdiction, either.” Lifting his eyes to hers, tears threatening to spill over his waterline, he gazed at her, silently pleading. His voice broke when he asked, “Are you angry with me for that?”

She wasn’t. Part of her felt that she should have been, and yet, she just couldn’t bring herself to it. Nothing bad had come of it, only a little confusion. Now, they were all clear, and, really, there had been no harm done.

Well, that’s what she told herself, anyway.

“Of course I’m not angry,” she assured him, taking his hand once more, tethering herself to him, to the moment that they were sharing. “I understand why you did it.”

There had been plenty of times in her life that she had felt threatened by her own peers, and had made risky sacrifices to not rely on them. It wasn’t exactly  _ uncommon _ in the theatre— sure, it was a lifestyle that relied on teamwork, but it also relied on the inabilities of others. She— and many others— had to take the opportunities as they came.

He wanted to prove himself, just like she always did. Was that anything to be angry about? Hardly. To make matters worse, his smile was the very picture of relief, which only set her at ease even more.

“Thank you, Theo. Your understanding means the world to me.”

Patting her hand, he leaned his forehead against hers once more, sighing softly. Her heart leapt into her throat, but she closed her eyes, focusing on the rocking of the train, and the sensation of his hand around hers.

They remained that way for the remainder of the trip, falling into a comfortable silence. She thought of her journey, her quest that had taken her farther west than she ever thought possible. She thought of the man that she had fallen in love with, that set her heart at ease, made her feel loved in a way that she had doubted was even possible. She thought of her dreams, the exploration of the feelings that were developing within her, feelings that were still out of reach, just barely forbidden.

_ Three more. _ That was all. Devereux, Cain, and Vabsley… and then she was free. She could live her life in the theatre, with the man of her dreams. She could carry on the legacy of the Wilkes, of the Starry-Eyed Fortuna, of her father’s last wishes.

Several years prior to Theo (Sr.)’s untimely demise and Theo (Jr.)’s unfortunate assignment as unwilling debtor, the father-daughter duo took an afternoon off to see a local production of  _ The Pirates of Penzance. _

She had enjoyed herself immensely. The acting, the sets, the costumes… everything had been so well done. After the show, the Wilkeses had gone backstage— Theophilus wished to speak to the cast and crew, gain insight to their production, and so on. After all, he and the director had been relatively good friends— although, not without a healthy dose of rivalry.

Theodora, however… had her eyes on a different prize.

As soon as the Pirate King had entered, she had found herself entranced. At first, she had chalked it up to his acting, his singing, what have you. As the show went on, however, she realized that he had a certain magnetism to him, a certain charisma, that she was fixating on.

Well, needless to say, she went searching for a little  _ insight _ of her own, and she  _ found _ it. It seems that Mister Pirate King was all too willing to provide Theo with as much  _ insight _ that she asked for. After all, what was a little  _ insight _ between actors?

His name was Herbert. Good ol’ Herby had been  _ quite insightful _ with Theo for about half a year before he found another actor to give  _ insight _ to. Actually, about eight other actors, to be precise.

Theo happened to come for a visit right when Herby was giving the lead actor— a string bean of a man with a mismatching deep voice— a healthy dose of  _ insight _ .

Obviously, from that day forward, she hardly tolerated the mere mention of  _ The Pirates of Penzance. _

One of the stagehands once made the mistake of telling her that she should try out for the role of Mabel at the new production that was starting down the street. Theo nearly decked her.

With such a messy history, it’s a wonder that she ended up dreaming about it. Then again, it’s no wonder at all, considering her emotional attachment to the work.

On the rolling waves of an unknown sea, she found herself in the company of a faceless crew of pirates, the only woman amongst them. She was wearing an old-fashioned, white dress, not entirely unlike Mabel’s costume in  _ The Pirates of Penzance. _

The crew snarled at her, comically roguish, as they bound her with rope, tying her hands behind her back. She was, however, a lady, and refused to return their threats— alas, even in her dreams, she was bound by the rules of theatre, and played her role, as expected.

“The captain’ll  _ love _ you,” a crewmate laughed, his voice hoarse.

The door to the Captain’s Quarters slammed open. Part of her was expecting Good Ol’ Herby, in his gaudy pirate costume, smelling of cheap liquor and cheap cigarettes, just as he always had. However, as anyone other than our dear protagonist would expect, it wasn’t Good Ol’ Herby— it was the one, the only Carlisle Adamson.

Rather,  _ Captain _ Carlisle Adamson.

The costume was much the same as what she remembered, although it looked much better on Carlisle than it  _ ever _ had on Good Ol’ what’s-his-face. His deep-cut shirt exposed just the right amount of toned pectorals and intricate tattoos, leaving  _ just _ enough to her imagination. High-waisted pants accentuated all the flattering points of his hips and thighs, while a lavish, intricately ornate overcoat gave him an air of nobility.

“What have we here?” he asked, striding towards her with such charming arrogance (something she didn’t think possible for him) that she found herself wide-eyed, and slack-jawed. She had never been a fan of the arrogant types, and yet… she had never seen such confidence on  _ him _ .

A deadly combination, if she was being honest. And she was.

Unsheathing his sword, he positioned the blade under her chin, harmlessly tilting her head up to meet his sparkling grey-blue eyes.

“Well, she’s certainly a pretty one,” he observed, a playful grin blossoming on his lips. “What’s your name, young lady?”

“Theo…” she faltered, her tongue thick in her mouth.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”  _ Great _ . He was attractive  _ and _ actively flirting? She was doomed! “Gentlemen, kindly untie the lady. I’d love to have a prolonged…” he trailed off, his eyes traveling over her before he met her gaze once more. “ _ Discussion _ with our guest,” he smirked.

… Yep. Doomed.

A smirk like  _ that _ wasn’t something that suited the Carlisle she knew. However, this Dream Carlisle was a completely different story. It seemed to suit him  _ perfectly _ .

The crewmates cut the ropes that bound her. Sheathing his sword, Carlisle bowed, holding his hand out to her. With a noble gentleness, she placed her hand atop his, and  _ allowed _ him to place a kiss to her knuckles— although, when he looked like  _ that _ , she would “allow” him to do whatever he pleased.

Guiding her to his quarters, he held the door open for her. Casting a look back at his faceless crew, that smirk remained on his face as he spoke.

“Oh, and gentlemen?” he called out, putting his arm around Theo’s waist. “No interruptions, if you please.”

Maybe it was the  _ way _ he said it, the promise of a gentle yet thorough seduction, or perhaps it was the idea of a “discussion” with such a beautiful man that only had eyes for her. Or it even could have been the feeling of his large, steady hand on her waist, guiding her to her own personal paradise.

Closing the door behind them, he shot her a suggestive look out of the corner of his eye.

“Alone at last.”

“Yes,” was all she could manage, followed by a girlish giggle. She was wrapped around his little finger,  _ especially _ in her dreams. Dream and reality began to merge, as they often tend to, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, craning her head back to meet his gaze. “Hello, my love.”

Capturing her lips in a quick, feverish kiss, he anchored the two of them to the moment. When he broke the kiss, he was all smiles, pressing kisses to her cheeks and jawline.

“Hello, my rose,” he mumbled between kisses. “I did not frighten you, did I?”

“You could never.”

For some reason, this amused him.

With a deep chuckle, he pulled her close, nuzzling her neck. As he peppered her neck with ticklish kisses, she laughed, half-recoiling from the contact. Leaning back, he regarded her with the same smirk as earlier, his fingers trailing along her jawline.

“Shall we retire?” he murmured, low and playful and filled with many dangerous promises. Well, he hardly had to ask twice. Retire, they did.

Her white dress had just barely fluttered to the ground when she woke up. The lingering clouds of the rainstorm from the night prior blotted out the sun, letting very little light into their room. She didn’t need much light to notice, however, that once more, she had awoken in Carlisle’s embrace.

… This was probably why she was having such questionable dreams. Falling asleep in his arms was hardly helping her predicament. She only wished she could finish the entire dream, instead of being left on the brink! It was frustrating, and— now that she knew he was only pretending to sleep— she was half-tempted to finish where her dream had left off.

No, she reminded herself. She would just have to wait. She could live out as many dreams as she wanted once her soul wasn’t forfeit.

Huffing quietly, she laid her head back, staring at the ceiling. Carlisle stirred, propping himself onto his elbow.

“Oh, my. You’re awake,” he smiled. “Good morning, Theo.”

Well, all wasn’t lost, at least. She wasn’t being  _ Miss Wilkes’ _ ed anymore, which was more of a blessing than anything else.

“Good morning, Carlisle,” she greeted in return. Seeing his smile first thing in the morning was certainly revitalizing, but, at the same time, she was dreaming so frequently, and so vividly, she was hardly feeling rested at all.

“Did you have sweet dreams?” he asked, completely clueless. Never mind that, in her dreams, he was a master of seduction, capable of turning her into putty with a single caress. With an uneasy smile, she nodded. “Oh, that is wonderful news. You see, I was quite curious, as you had actually said  _ my _ name in your sleep,” he tittered, oblivious to the horrified look on her face. “I am glad to hear that they were good dr— ah, Theo? Where are you going?”

She had beelined it to the wash basin in their room, furiously splashing water into her hot, flushed face.

She had said his  _ name _ ? In her  _ sleep _ ? In what way? What had she done? It was bad enough that she was dreaming about him in a completely scandalous light— never mind saying his  _ name _ !

Scrambling after her, he gently grabbed her shoulders, turning her to face him, concern written into his ethereally beautiful features.

“Theo? What is wrong?”

To say she was  _ hesitant _ to explain her mortification would be an understatement of astronomical proportions. Instead of having to look him in the eye, she stepped forward, burying her wet face into his shoulder.

“It’s embarrassing,” she grumbled.

“What? What is embarrassing about it?” he asked, tittering again. “I found it endearing. To know that you were probably dreaming of me… it is quite the compliment.”

Theo couldn’t help but wonder if he would still find it flattering if he knew what her dreams consisted of. Other men would see that as an invitation, but what about a Divine Guide? Wouldn’t that break some sort of code, or something?

“I cannot sleep, and thus, I cannot dream. What I would not give to dream of you,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. “I must rely on you to dream for the both of us, I am afraid. Although, if I could, I would wish to dream of you every night.”

Through her embarrassment, her heart skipped a beat. She had never felt so comfortable with someone, so validated, and so valued. Even if she tripped up, he was there, offering his hand to her. To be with someone who accepted her, embarrassing moments and all, was something she had only dreamt of.

He loved her, through and through. He was her prince, her knight in shining armor, and he was there to stand by her side, no matter what life threw at her.

Wrapping her arms around him, she fought off a smile as she buried her head into his shoulder.

“Theo?” Leaning back, she looked up into his face, just in time for him to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. Beaming at her, his cheeks were dyed a beautiful, rosy color.

Did he have  _ any _ idea of how difficult he made it to focus on the task at hand? No, none at all. She supposed that must be her burden to bear— it was a tough job, but someone had to do it.

Carlisle was struck by his usual morning malady, his color  _ unusually _ bad. As always, he excused himself while Theo finished getting ready, promising to meet her downstairs for breakfast in about half an hour.

He returned, just as promised, looking much better after his trip to the office.

While they ate breakfast that morning— or rather,  _ Theo _ ate, and Carlisle had a cup of tea— the phone at the bed and breakfast rang. A young man scurried off to answer it, reemerging into the dining room only mere moments later.

“Excuse me, everyone,” he piped up, only about half a decibel over what was considered polite. “There is a phone call for a Mister Carlisle Adamson.”

Theo and Carlisle exchanged a confused look before he stood, walking over to the young man. While Theo nibbled on her toast, she eavesdropped, curious as to who could be calling  _ her  _ Divine Guide.

“I am Carlisle Adamson,” he smiled, the picture of serenity, as usual.

“Oh— uh, Mister Adamson, there is a Mister Harrington on the phone for you. You can take it right here at the front desk.”

Glancing back at Theo, looking particularly flabbergasted, he walked over to the front desk. Unfortunately, he was now out of earshot, although she could still see him.

He began speaking, all smiles. Waving at her, he gave her an apologetic look before turning around, continuing his conversation in private.

It struck her as odd that Harrington would call Carlisle. Then again, she  _ had _ mentioned him… maybe Harrington was only curious?

After a few minutes, Carlisle returned, taking his seat across from her.

“What did Harrington need?” she asked, not particularly concerned about propriety, or leading up to the question.

“Oh! He wished to make my acquaintance. As I am your Divine Guide, and he is particularly fond of you, he wished to ensure that you were in responsible hands,” he explained. “Although, I must admit, I feel that _ you _ are the one protecting  _ me _ , and not the other way around.”

“Oh, you,” she giggled.

Taking her hand, he gave it a gentle squeeze. He smiled at her, completely lovestruck, and yet, at peace. It held the beauty of a world that she had yet to explore, and the safety underlying the freedom to do so.

He was her pillar, there to support her, and she could think of no one she would rather spend the rest of her days with. Her thoughts began to run away with her, and before she knew it, she was daydreaming about their future, idyllic life with one another, maybe with a few dogs in a cottage upstate.

Her golden retriever of a lover, along with a few other golden retrievers… she could do worse.

“After breakfast, we can go to Vabsley’s,” she said. “I’m almost there, Carlisle! Just three more— well, two more, after today.”

His smile twitched, becoming strained. The sight of it sent a wave of dread through her, although she couldn’t put her finger on why.

After a few moments of hesitation, he finally said, “Yes… just three more.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, leaning forward. Shaking his head, he forced a smile.

“Nothing.” It was obviously a lie— she knew him well enough at that point to know something was bothering him. She continued to stare at him, unwavering. Eventually, he spoke up again. “What would you think of taking today off? Perhaps have a day of rest before going to see Mister Vabsley.”

“I can’t do that,” she protested softly. “This is going on too long as it is. Sure, we have Charlie looking out for us, but if the mobsters show up, we’re in trouble.” Squeezing his hand, she tried to give him a reassuring smile. “Harrington didn’t wear me out. I’ll be okay. I promise.”

He nodded, mechanical and tense, but didn’t protest further. The silence began to drag between them, lasting throughout breakfast. Returning to their room, they finished their preparations for the day, and still, the silence persisted.

“Are you ready?” she finally asked. He kept his eyes glued to the floor, remaining silent. “Carlisle?”

Finally, he met her gaze, tearful eyes wavering in the dim light of their room. Letting out a shaky breath, he whispered, “Please.” His tears spilled over onto his cheeks. “Please, don’t go.”

Rushing to him, she threw her arms around him, peering up into his face. His starry tears continued to fall, no matter how many times she tried to wipe them away.

“I cannot lose you to him, too,” he whispered, his voice breaking, strained. “Theo, I cannot…” he gasped, his tears falling onto her cheeks as he looked down at her. “I could never recover if I lost you.”

“You won’t lose me,” she promised, tears filling her own eyes. Channeling her resolve, she set her jaw, and spoke as firmly as her tight throat would allow. “Now, you listen to me, Carlisle Adamson. You’re not gonna lose me, not now, not ever. I’ve gotten through four of these contracts, all on my own— instead of having me place all of my faith in  _ you _ , how’s about you have a little faith in  _ me _ ?”

His eyes widened as he recoiled from her, taken aback by her words.

“Theo, I—”

“I know you’re worried, and I understand  _ why _ you’re worried, too. But I can’t just  _ never _ face Vabsley because of your history with him,” she continued, riding on the momentum of her confidence. “No matter what happens, I’m seeing him, and I’m seeing him  _ today _ . I’m not wasting another minute, and I’m not giving those mobsters another chance at finding me. So either  _ you  _ take me to Vabsley’s, or I’ll find my way there, myself.”

Once she finished, her heart racing in her chest, she blinked the tears out of her eyes. She was shaking— she hadn’t meant to snap at him, but  _ she  _ was the one who had to go in there alone, not him! If  _ he _ was worried, how did he think  _ she _ felt every time she had to step through those doors?

Heaving a sigh, she took his hands, craning her neck back to meet his eye. Tears still flowed freely from his wide eyes, leaving trails of galaxies down his cheeks. Finally, his expression relaxed, the corners of his mouth turning up, just barely.

If she didn’t know him so well, she could have easily missed it.

“... You are right,” he sighed quietly. “As usual, you are… utterly amazing. Far stronger than I could ever be.”

“You can be this strong, too. I’m not robbing you of it.” Letting go of his hand, she reached up, wiping away the last of his tears. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love how soft you are. Kindness is stronger than hatred, always.”

This made him smile, relief washing over his features. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close, resting his head atop hers.

“I hope you can impart some of that wisdom unto Mister Vabsley.”

“Say the word, and I’ll try,” she grinned. “The least I can do is give him a hard time for you.”

The city was charged, in much the same way as Albany had been, under Walker’s influence. The memory of the beastly man sent a shudder through Theo as she walked down the street, despite the grueling summer heat. Even under the dark storm clouds that gathered overhead, blotting out the sun, the heat and humidity were utterly oppressive.

The people were tense. Too tense. Everyone was on edge, living in a bottle of kerosene, and waiting for some fool to light a match. They knew  _ somebody _ had the match, they just didn’t know who, or when they would ignite it.

Those who didn’t keep their eyes down were glared at by those that did. People pushed and shoved their way through the crowded streets, forcing the flow of traffic to meet their own unattainable standards.

“What’s going on?” Theo asked, keeping her voice low, despite being close to city center.

“His influence has gotten worse,” Carlisle grumbled, narrowing his eyes. “We are getting close to his vortex.”

As they continued walking, Theo could hear unintelligible, amplified speaking coming from farther down the street. Crowds roared, swallowing the amplified voice, and yet, granting it more power. It was clear to her that whoever was speaking must have been incredibly well-liked. Either that, or tremendously hated.

“I am afraid this is as far as I can go,” Carlisle murmured, pulling Theo to the side. “Please, be safe. Mister Vabsley is a manipulative mastermind, and could very easily get into your head. Do not play into any of his so-called ideals, and you ought to remain safe.”

“Got it,” she smiled, forcing herself to seem braver than she felt. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He held onto her hand for as long as he could, his fingers lingering as she walked out of his reach. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she gave him one, final wave as she joined the crowd, fading from sight.

By this point, she knew to only expect the unexpected. All she knew, for sure, was that Vabsley was dangerous— as confirmed by both Carlisle  _ and _ Harrington. He seemed to be a bit of a loose cannon, someone that couldn’t (and shouldn’t) be trusted, under  _ any _ circumstances.

The crowds grew thicker as she reached the nexus of activity, to the point where Theo was pushing her way through full, human blockades. Being as petite as she was, seeing over the heads of everyone in the crowd would be quite a feat. In a sea of monochromatic suits and hats, she stuck out in her bright green gown.

The closer she got, the more she could hear of the speech, amplified over the city square.

“... the world’s policeman, guiding our fellow man to the safety of Western diplomacy. After all, are we not the men that have built the best country in the world from the ground-up?” the voice asked, booming over the crowd. It was immediately swallowed up by raucous cheers, the people in attendance raising their fists into the air, hitting Theo as she passed. “Even our allies from the Great War could use a little American hospitality, couldn’t they, friends?”

More cheers, more punches. One man’s elbow came down onto Theo’s head, and he didn’t even bother to apologize. If anything, he glared at her, as if  _ she _ should apologize for being in his way.

“It’s our duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves,” the voice continued, an arrogantly friendly drawl to his words. “Anyone who does not appreciate our protection is simply disillusioned, and ought to be shown that  _ our  _ way is the  _ correct  _ way.”

The crowd— which mainly consisted of men— roared once more, their aggressive agreement to the sentiment downright frightening. Did they really believe this nonsense? If someone didn’t want their help, shouldn’t they just  _ listen  _ to them?

_ Then again, _ she thought, completely bitter as she wove through the crowd,  _ they’re men. They’re not gonna listen to anyone else. _

She already hated Vabsley for feeding into their mindless drivel.

“We are the best that the world has to offer,” the voice— obviously Vabsley— sneered. “The rest of the world just doesn’t know it yet.”

Theo wasn’t the most well-versed in history, but she knew enough to know that his argument was a baseless one. As a country, they were completely infantile; they were only loud enough that they gained the attention of the world.

Weaving through the crowd, she tuned Vabsley out, unwilling to listen to the ravings of an inhuman lunatic. Besides, she had better things to focus on, like not getting punched in the face.

Finally, after far too much effort, she reached a reasonably-sized gap in the crowd, positioned directly in front of Vabsley’s podium.

He was the most attractive creditor she had come across— unnervingly so. Seeming about 28 years old, his chiseled jaw accentuated his cheekbones, his vibrant gold eyes, his shining white teeth. His blond hair was slicked back, not a single hair out of place, and his clothes were immaculate, to the point that they barely shifted, even when he did.

He was attractive, and obviously knew it. It was written into his venomous smile, the way his eyes looked down over the crowd. He had everything he could ever want, and lost all point in existence because of it.

As she looked up at him, she understood how he had gained so much power. He was the ideal, the ultimate goal that people were striving for. A soulless fantasy that they must carve their hearts out to achieve.

She had to wonder… in gaining perfection, did he have anything left to live for?

“Nationalism is the red blood of this country; patriotism, the air in our lungs. It’s us against the world, gentlemen, and we cannot tolerate any suggestions to the alternative.” Another wave of roaring cheers. “After all, who would ever be so absurd as to disagree with us?”

That was her cue. Slowly raising her hand, she drew his poisonous, golden gaze to her. He looked down upon her as if she were an ant crawling on his polished shoe.

“I would disagree.”

The men around her grew upset, grumbling and cursing under their breaths. However, as she was from the heart of Manhattan, they’d have to try a lot harder than  _ that  _ to scare her.

“Oh? A naysayer?” he smirked, his eyes narrowing. “Oh… no, you’re not just  _ anyone _ , are you?” Throwing his arms into the air, he laughed, hearty and convincingly mirthful. “Gentlemen, may I introduce the woman of the  _ century _ , Miss Theodora Wilkes, daughter of the cheat, Theophilus Wilkes!”

Grinding her teeth together, she stopped herself from lashing out. It would be exactly what he wanted, and she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.

“Might I give you a warm and heartfelt welcome to Chicago, Miss Wilkes. Gentlemen, back up, give the lady some room.” The crowd obeyed, keeping a wide berth. Vabsley leaned onto his podium, looking down on her from his pedestal above the common man. “What a pleasure it is to finally make your acquaintance. You’ve kept me waiting for a horribly long time.”

Yep, she hated him, alright. That was fast.

“I don’t plan on staying here longer than I have to, Vabsley,” she projected, using her strongest actress’ voice to travel over as much of the crowd as she could. “You know why I’m here. Don’t waste my precious time.”

Clicking his tongue— which echoed over the loudspeakers— his lip curled up into an impatient snarl.

“Yes, time  _ is _ quite precious to you, isn’t it? You have so little of it, even under the best circumstances. And you, Miss Wilkes, are not a woman blessed by circumstance.” Chuckling deeply, he leaned back, drumming his fingers against the podium. “Very well, Miss Wilkes. Let’s return to my office, and discuss your eternal servitude.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” she warned.

“Really?” he laughed. “ _ I _ would.” Giving the crowd a sour frown, he grumbled, “Go forth, and live by my words, gentlemen.”

The crowd broke into confused applause as Vabsley left the makeshift stage, completely alone. Theo pushed her way to the front, shoving irate men out of her way. Emerging on the other side, she met Vabsley, immediately upset that she had to look up to see his face.

Curse her height, truly.

Glancing around, she expected his hazy-eyed assistants to join them, follow them back to the office. But no one did.

“Come along, then. If your time is so precious, make good use of it,” he grumbled, storming off. Mercifully, his office was directly behind his makeshift stage. At least she didn’t have to walk with him for longer than necessary.

Looking behind her, she noticed that the crowd lingered, growing increasingly agitated with each passing second. There was a darkness to them that she couldn’t place, but it was worse than any other patrons she had seen.

They only stared at her, jaws set.

The door to Vabsley’s office building shut behind her, cutting her off from the toxic, noxious fumes of nationalistic entitlement. She only hoped it would  _ stay _ that way.

Vabsley led the way upstairs, carrying himself with an air of superiority that was commonly found in well-to-do heirs. It was a brand of man that she could never tolerate— those who believed that their status and money placed them above the rest.

They were pitiful. The lot of them.

The sound of their footsteps echoed off of the polished walls as they walked, and still, no assistants joined them. They were alone— despite how nasty most of the assistants had been, she had still taken an ounce of comfort in their presence. At least they had been human, at one point in time. At least they could act as a buffer. At least they kept the gate between  _ her _ and the  _ creditor _ .

Here, she could have no such comfort.

Still, she scanned her surroundings, looking for any sign of movement in the dark offices that they passed, to no avail.

Glancing over his shoulder, Vabsley chuckled, his features far too sharp in the dim light.

“What are you looking for?” he asked, his usual venomous grin pulling at his lips.

Unfortunately, she felt compelled to answer.

“Your assistants,” she said, coming across just as defensively as she would have liked.

“Ah.” With a click of his tongue, he turned his eyes forward again, giving her a scenic view of the back of his perfect head. “Perhaps my compatriots would lower themselves to take on lesser beings as their assistants, however, I do tend to hold myself to a higher standard than the rest of them.”

_ Good for you, _ she thought, not quite brave enough to grumble it aloud.

At last, they reached the last door. Opening it, he held it open for Theo, his golden eyes following her as she stepped past him. She could feel his eyes on her, hungry, bordering on predatory, watching her every move.

He wasn’t threatened by her. That much was clearly written in his eyes. As much as the other creditors didn’t fear her, or had underestimated her, he knew  _ exactly _ where each of them stood.

Despite every alarm in her body screaming at her, she stood her ground, looking him in the eye as he crossed the room. He wanted to size her up?  _ Fine _ , but she’d do the same.

He was an elitist, entitled man. Nothing she hadn’t dealt with before.

With a knowing smirk, he held her gaze, eventually taking a seat in his plush, leather office chair. Crossing one leg over the other, he steepled his fingers, staring at her, unblinking, unwavering. Unsure, she followed suit, sinking into the leather chair opposite of his.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he noted. “Looks like the others have been too soft on you.”

“What’s there to be afraid of?” she asked pointedly, folding her arms across her chest. “Wouldn’t fear point to something remarkable about you?” His smile widened, and yet, he still didn’t blink. “Listen, can’t we just get this over with?”

“Patience, Miss Wilkes. Surely someone as virtuous as yourself could understand  _ that _ .” In her general irritation, she had forgotten that she was in  _ his _ domain, and had to play by  _ his _ rules. It was idiotic, but true. “I must admit, I’m rather interested in the woman that has bested four of my colleagues.”

Something told her that she didn’t want to be a person of interest to someone like  _ him _ . Gaining his attention wasn’t a small feat, and she didn’t  _ want _ to stand out from the crowd.

Unfortunately, she had already done just that.

“I only take the best of the best for my assistants,” he grinned, finally closing his freakishly bright eyes. “Your father was hardly anyone interesting, he would have simply become another face in the crowd to me. But  _ you _ …” His eyes opened, zeroing in on her, freezing her in place. “ _ You _ are a special case.”

_ Uh-oh. _

“People of all sexes, races, and creeds have thrown themselves at my feet, idolizing me, glorifying me, but I have no interest in such petty nonsense. I know I am a cut above the rest— there is no point in reminding me of the obvious,” he gloated. Theo wanted nothing more than to wipe that self-righteous grin off of his face. “But  _ you _ , Theodora— you mind if I call you Theodora?”

“Yeah, I  _ do _ mind.”

“Hm, but a lovely name ought to be used, don’t you agree?” he grinned, speaking in a gently forced Southern drawl. “After all, your father was the one to give you that name. What better way to honor him, than to let people call you by your given name?”

After having to fight, tooth and nail, to have Carlisle refer to her by name, she didn’t want to give  _ this guy _ the pleasure.

“We’re not friends. Only my friends can call me Theo.”

“Oh,  _ Theo _ ? Not Theodora?”

“I  _ prefer  _ Theo.”

“Then, Theo, please call me Athelstan.”

“No.”

“Why, Theo, it seems you have quite the negative impression of me already. Allow me to make amends.” With a facsimile of a genuine smile, he leaned forward, gazing at her. “After all, I’d love to have you as my assistant.”

“Not in a million years,” she growled, leaning her arm on his desk. “I’m breaking the contract, and getting out of here.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, his eyes gleaming. “People are  _ dying _ to become my assistant— killing, even. To throw away such an opportunity would be completely ludicrous.” Glancing down at her hand, his grin widened. “I’ve been told I’m a  _ very  _ generous employer, Theo.”

She was about to object when he scooped her hand into his own, holding it daintily, and yet, keeping a firm grip on her. His golden eyes flicked up to hers, his eyebrow quirked.

“You’ve met Harrington,” he said, his voice low, and suggestive. Every hair on the back of her neck stood on end as his thumb grazed the back of her hand. “Which means you must have met his little pet. Or, as he’d call her, his ‘wife’.”

Struggling to keep her composure, she spat out, “What about them?”

“I could offer you a similar position,” he smiled. “Think about it. Anything you could ever want, and you could have it in an instant. An eternity of praise, fame, fortune… whatever your little heart desires. And, of course, having me as your husband, you know I’d take  _ very _ good care of you.”

Her eyes widened as she tried to retract her arm. However, she was stuck in his vice grip, her heart hammering a mile a minute.

“You’re insane,” she choked.

“Hardly, my dear. If anything, I’m brimming with clarity,” he breathed, standing with such force that he brought her to her feet. Although a desk separated them, it wasn’t nearly enough space. “No wonder your father fought so hard to hide you from the world. You are quite the treasure.”

“Don’t you  _ dare _ talk about my father,” she spat. Yanking her arm out of his grip, she stumbled back, glaring at him with icy hatred. Outside, thunder rumbled, and the rain began to fall, cutting the humidity in the air. “Enough of this. I’m not here to stay.”

Puffing out his chest, he grinned, the very sight of it twisting her insides. Despite his attractive features, he became uglier the longer she looked at him. She knew, without a doubt, that she was looking into the face of pure evil.

“That’s what they all say, at first,” he sighed, still smiling, obviously not believing her blatant disinterest. “Very well, Theo. Let’s try contesting that contract for you, hm?”

Out of all of the creditors she had met so far, she trusted Vabsley the least. The others, with the exception of Harrington, had been upfront about their distaste for her. Vabsley, however, was completely different than the others, in the worst ways possible.

Needless to say, she kept a  _ very _ close eye on him. Something told her that getting out of his office would be significantly more difficult than getting in.

Opening a drawer, his eyes flicked up to hers as he pulled something out of it. As soon as the blade caught the light, Theo stepped back, her eyes wide. He chuckled, and placed the stiletto dagger on the desk.

“Do you think I’m going to hurt you, Theo?” he asked, his serpentine smile wide and unflinching. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t hurt you without good reason.” Unsurprisingly, that did nothing to alleviate her worries. “Have you ever played pinfinger?”

Immediately, she understood, and her stomach dropped. She had never had the  _ nerve  _ to play that atrocious game. It would resurface at the theatre every now and again, various members of the cast and crew playing it to pass the time.

The rules of the game were simple: strike the points between the fingers with the tip of the knife without cutting the skin. It required a steady hand, nerves of steel, and perfect hand-eye coordination.

This didn’t bode well.

Beads of sweat began forming on her brow. The last two creditors had been relatively easy-going; she had forgotten how it felt to place her life in the creditors’ hands.

Stepping out from behind the desk, Vabsley sauntered over to a golden gramophone, picking up a vinyl record, and sliding it out of its sleeve. Flashing a grin at Theo over his shoulder, he chuckled again, deep, knowing… unnerving.

“How about a little music to cut the silence?” he asked, placing the record on, and cranking the old gramophone. “This is a personal favorite of mine. Rachmaninoff’s  _ Isle of the Dead. _ You humans can do one thing right, and that—” He set the needle down on the record, the beginning of a dark, orchestral piece floating through the air. “— is music.”

It was far too slow for Theo’s liking, its ups and downs lurching her stomach. Pinfinger was a fast-paced game, and the rhythm of the classical music was completely mismatched. Not only that, she was used to matching rhythm, so if he was hoping to throw her off with this choice, she was afraid he would be successful.

“Shall we, Theo?” he asked, closing the distance between them in merely five steps. He was a giant— taller than Carlisle, much to her chagrin. “I can show you how to play, if you like.” Sliding his finger under her chin, he tilted her face up, grinning down at her. “I’ll even let you have a practice round.”

Shaking him off, she stepped away, glaring at him. Again, this seemed to amuse him— the beauty of a challenge, a prey that finally,  _ finally  _ fought back.

“What’s wrong, Theo? You don’t have to be shy.” Grabbing her by the chin, he pulled her forward, forcing her to stumble into his embrace. “Perhaps you would like to spend more time chatting? What about a slice of fresh apple pie? Would that finally earn me a smile?”

He was strong, damn him, but she wasn’t about to let him get away with it. Writhing away from him, she freed his grasp, only for a moment before he pulled her closer once more.

“Let me go,” she growled, wrestling with his grip on her.

He was relentless.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of in indulging, Theo,” he smirked. “I’m not Devereux. You won’t lose yourself by succumbing to a little physical temptation.”

“You’re awfully confident!” she snarled. “I’m not interested!”

“A lapse in judgment,” he shrugged, still grinning, still unblinking. “You’ll come to your senses, sugar.” Keeping her pinned to the desk, he reached for the knife. He grabbed her by the wrist, placing her hand on the table— at this point, she was little more than a marionette for him to play with. “I’ll even teach you how to play.” Leaning in closer to her ear, she could hear the grin in his voice as he whispered, “We can take as long as you need, honey.”

She could have  _ screamed. _ Not out of fear— rather, out of pure, unadulterated rage. He was holding her there against her will, talking down to her, and completely ignoring any protest that she could have spat his way. She didn’t just hate the man, she  _ loathed _ him,  _ detested _ him!

Placing his hand atop hers, his body pressed flush against her back, he rested his chin on her shoulder.

“Get off of me!” she snarled, writhing again, desperate to make room between them. That was before he picked up the knife.

“Don’t move, sweetheart,” he cooed, his eyes flashing towards hers. “I’d hate to see those beautiful hands get cut.”

She froze, her breath catching in her throat. Splaying her fingers apart, he hummed along to the music as he pierced the spaces between their fingers— far too casual for her liking. With every tap of the knife’s blade, her heart wrenched in her chest, fear gripping every muscle in her body. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from her hand, completely at his mercy.

Give her a game of chance  _ any _ day. If it meant she could avoid this hell, she’d take all the chances she could get.

“Relax a little, Theo. I’ll take good care of you. I promise.” His lips grazed her ear, the knife still dancing between their fingers. The entire experience sent a violent shudder through her body, but she did her damnedest to suppress it.

His hands practically  _ swallowed _ hers. It wasn’t even the endearing sort of envelopment— such as Carlisle’s perfectly big hands— but rather, a voracious difference in size that left her feeling like a small and defenseless child.

Obviously, she hated every second of it. For multiple reasons. She hardly felt the need to list them all.

“It’s all about the rhythm.” His incessant murmuring was sending all of the worst shivers down her spine. As if detecting her discomfort, he chuckled. “You just have to trust yourself, that’s all.”

_ You’re the one holding the knife! _ she screamed in her head. Wordlessly, she watched with wide, horrified eyes as he brought the knife down beside her thumb, quickly hopping from space to space to space to space to space, forwards, and then back.

Each time the blade struck the desk, her heart squeezed in her chest, threatening to stop beating. With Vabsley enveloping her, and a knife poised above her hand, she knew she was little more than a toy for him to play with.

Finally— mercifully— he finished, relaxing his hold on her. Her knees buckled, and she fell back against him. Unfortunately, he caught her, knife in hand.

“Nervous?” he chuckled, his freakishly white teeth gleaming down at her, seeming much sharper than before. Righting her, he kept his hands on her shoulders, looking her up and down. He had the gall to seem surprisingly impressed. “Theo, we don’t need to do this.”

She wasn’t sure if he was confident, or just stupid.

Grabbing the desk for support, she shot him her nastiest, iciest glare as she wrenched herself away from him. She laid her hand out, as splayed as she could.

_ You’ve made it this far, Theo. Don’t give up now, _ she thought, taking a deep breath.  _ You’re a fighter, just like Papa. _

_ Indeed, you are, _ another voice seemed to agree, although she was sure it was just her imagination.  _ That’s why I chose you. _

“Give me the knife,” she demanded, her voice low and cold. Vabsley obliged, gently laying the dagger on the desk.

Picking it up, she took her time judging the weight, the shape, the length… if she cut her hand, or went too slow, she’d lose. She had to make it count.

This had been one of her father’s favorite games— he had held that advantage over Vabsley. However, she abhorred it, and was at one of the worst disadvantages yet.

“Tell me, Theo,” he hummed, finally stepping away from her, keeping his eyes glued to her face. “Would you like a big wedding, or a small one? I imagine an actress such as yourself must have plenty of friends.”

A detestable thought entered her head: her, dressed in a white wedding gown, standing next to Vabsley (or rather,  _ Athelstan _ ), dressed in his best. Even in her head, she was absolutely dwarfed in comparison to him.

Fueled by her disgust, she lifted the knife, and stabbed the desk, right beside her thumb. From there, she followed the same pattern as he had: thumb to index, thumb to middle, and so on, punctuating each finger with another stab between her thumb and index finger. Once she finished all five fingers, she had to go again, starting next to her pinky, and using that to punctuate each stab.

Of  _ course _ he had to choose the most complex pattern. Ever the show-off, Vabsley.

Adrenaline and hatred and disgust fueled her, her eyes glazing over as she worked quickly, somehow missing all of her fingers. Once she finished the last pattern, she froze, her fingers so tense that she couldn’t let go of the dagger.

“Good job, Theo,” he sneered, condescending and disappointed. Wrapping his hands around the hand that held the knife, he smiled— if she could call it that. It was dark, sinister, wide and curling at the edges.

Truly, a smile befitting a creditor.

“Let go of the knife, honey.” She did, letting it go so suddenly that it nearly dropped to the floor. Leaning over the desk, he laid out his hand once more, grinning at her with that creditor’s smile. “A kiss for good luck?”

“Go kiss a snake,” she spat, her whole body trembling.

His smile widened. “That’s hardly any way to talk to your future husband.”

With that, he started, moving so fast that his movements were almost blurred. The only indication that he was hitting the correct spaces was the slight glint of light that reflected on the blade as it came down between his fingers, the thunderous  _ thud _ of the blade sinking into leather.

He was too fast. Too good. She’d never be able to beat this pace.

His smile widened even more, threatening to split his jaw. His fangs— far more pronounced than they had been before— glinted in the dim light. Lightning flashed outside, casting the room in blinding white light. She could swear she saw a viscous, green venom dripping from his fangs.

No, that wasn’t it.

He was  _ salivating. _

He finished the second pattern, barking out a triumphant laugh as he drove the dagger into the desk, so far down that he struck wood.

“Beat  _ that _ !” he shouted, throwing his head back in a full-body, frenzied cackle. “You go any slower, and that’s your loss!”

She couldn’t. She  _ knew  _ she couldn’t. The blood drained from her face, hopelessness settling on her shoulders. The storm continued to rage outside, the rain pouring, thunder rumbling over the entirety of the city.

Beyond the thunder, however, she could hear something else, something that sent tightly-bound shivers through every vertebrae in her spine. Hundreds, if not  _ thousands _ , of voices clambering over one another.

They grew closer and closer, tidal waves of voices rising and falling in timbre. She couldn’t see them— as Vabsley’s office was on the second floor— but she could feel the frenzied energy emanating from the mob. What few words she could understand, she instantly recognized as regurgitations of Vabsley’s nationalistic sermons.

Lightning flashed once more, its blinding light catching on something that was thrown into the open window of the building across from the office. The distinct, orange glow of flames built up from the inside— a direct consequence of a Molotov cocktail.

“Well?” he laughed again, breathless from his earlier episode.

Turning back to him with wide eyes, Theo met his gaze as he smoothed his hair back into place. Her stomach churned— his hand left a trail of blood in its wake, smearing across his forehead and hair.

“You—” she gasped, her eyes fixating on the hand in question. Sure enough, there was a large, bleeding gash on his index finger, dripping blood onto the floor. Her eyes crawled up to his, holding his gaze as she exhaled the two most dangerous words she could: “You lost.”

His smile twisted, wrenching itself into a vicious, gnarled frown as his eyes fell to his bleeding hand.

“ _That’s…_ _not…_ ** _possible,_** ” he growled, animalistic. Grabbing himself by the wrist, his wide eyes never moved from his finger. “ ** _That’s… not… POSSIBLE!!”_**

Scrambling backwards, she didn’t dare to look away from him, even as he curled in on himself, sinking to his knees.

“I’ve only ever lost… twice before…” he heaved. The office was cast into an unsettling, wavering orange glow as the flames consumed the building across from them. “And both times—” His eyes flashed up to hers, reflecting the inferno outside, blood mixing with sweat on his forehead. “— were because of your  _ cheating, conniving,  _ **_son of a whore father!”_ **

Her stomach clenched, but she said nothing. Instead, she wrenched the dagger free from the desk, and threw it at the ground, right between his knees.

“Yeah? Well, make this the third,” she said, her voice icy. Holding out her hand, she looked down her nose at him. “Your ring, Vabsley.”

“You’re a family of cheats,” he spat.

“No, you’re just a sore loser.” Closing and opening her hand once more, she repeated, “Your ring.” When he didn’t move, she sighed. “Come on. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“I demand a rematch.”

Her odds were bad enough the first time. She didn’t even want to entertain the idea.

“No.”

“ _ Theo _ .”

“No!” she cried, completely exasperated. “Listen, you lost, fair and square! We’re done here! Now, fork over the ring!”

Cursing under his breath, he made a big show of taking off the ring, wasting as much of her time as possible. Finally, after about 45 seconds of fiddling about, the ring ended up in her hand.

_ What a baby, _ she grumbled to herself— a thought that was clearly written all over her face.

“Thank you,” she huffed, dropping the ring into her bag.

Without so much as a second glance, she trudged over to the door, more than willing to go throw herself into the waves of the riot outside. It still would have beaten being stuck in that office with Vabsley for another second.

She opened the door. As if from some unseen force, it pried itself from her grip, and slammed shut in her face. She stumbled back, eyes wide.

“Not so fast, Theo,” Vabsley chuckled, getting to his feet. She spun around, just in time to see him wipe the blood from his face with his handkerchief. “We’re not done talking.”

“You can’t keep me here.”

“If I really  _ couldn’t _ , honey,” he grinned, “The Entity would have stepped in by now.” Striding towards her, he backed her against the door, blocking any possible escape routes. He loomed over her, threatening to swallow her whole. “We need to have a little talk before you go.”

It didn’t seem to be a  _ little talk _ to her. Unless Vabsley made a habit of cornering his conversation partners.

“You only have two creditors left, now, Theo: Cain and Devereux. They’re wanderers— they don’t have a vortex that they operate out of, like the rest of us. Do you know why?” he asked, barely giving her time to answer before he continued, “Because they’re  _ too powerful _ . Harrington and I are a couple of big shots, sure, but we’re  _ nothing _ compared to those two.”

Memories of Harrington’s auction house flashed through her mind, of the hundreds of people crammed into a single room. Similarly, even in that moment, thousands of Vabsley’s followers were marching through the street, right beneath his window.

“You would be safe here. Despite his nature, Cain wouldn’t come looking for you. But Devereux, that bastard… he wouldn’t accept defeat so easily. He never has,” he grumbled, seeming faraway. “No doubt he’s still holding onto his grudge.” Finally, his eyes flicked back to hers. “I could protect you from him, Theo. Trust me, he’s not the sort of creature you want to get yourself tangled up with.”

“I don’t need your protection,” she protested weakly.

“I understand that you think of yourself as an independent woman, but listen to me,” he urged, “I don’t have assistants because I have yet to meet anyone good enough— well, my current company excluded.” As usual, his attention sent a shudder through her. “Those two, however… they don’t have assistants because no matter what they do, they  _ kill them _ .”

The blood drained from her face.

“Our assistants are not so easy to kill. If treated well enough, they could continue living for as long as we do. Cain and Devereux, though… they work their assistants to death, sucking every ounce of essence from them.” Taking her hands, he gazed at her, serious, and far too enticing. His golden eyes held her in place, hypnotizing her. “Stay here, Theo. You won’t live forever, but at least your natural life could be  _ easier _ .”

For a moment— just one, dangerous moment— his honeyed words sat well with her, and she considered accepting his offer.

However, thankfully, she quickly returned to her senses, breaking herself out of his spell. Carlisle’s warm smile flitted past her mind’s eye, for just a moment. It was enough to remind her of what was important— of what she had promised.

“I can’t— I won’t!” With not nearly enough strength, she attempted to push Vabsley away. “There’s someone out there waiting for me. I won’t break my promise to him.”

He sighed, averting his gaze as he frowned.

“Of course there’s some other beau,” he grumbled. Stepping away, he retreated to his desk, picking up the dagger on his way. Turning it over in his hand, he gazed at her, his unblinking eyes freezing her in place. With an odd smile, he continued, “When you get tired of him, you can always come back here— at least you would learn what it means to be loved by a real man.”

There were several fallacies in that sentence: first, she was quite sure (based on Harrington’s account) that the creditors couldn’t love; second, Vabsley wasn’t a “real man”; and finally, she would never,  _ ever _ step foot in that office again, no matter how desperate she became.

“No, thanks,” she frowned. “I’m not interested.”

“Too bad,” he grinned. “Oh, one last thing, Theo?”

“What now?”

“Hold up my ring, would you? Just right there, next to the doorframe.” Brow furrowing in confusion, she dug the ring out of her bag, and held it up, the gem facing Vabsley. “Oh, no, just hold it between your fingers.” She turned it over, so the head of the ring was facing the ceiling. Holding it between her index finger and thumb, she kept it elevated, around the same height as her head.

The next thing she knew, the blade of the dagger was sticking out of the doorframe, right in the middle of the ring. He had thrown the knife, and had gotten a bullseye, narrowly missing her fingers.

With wide eyes, she stared at him, her heart lurching into her throat.

“Remember,” he smiled, wide and unnatural. “Cain and Devereux are  _ worse _ than I am. Compared to those two, I’m a perfectly nice gentleman.”

Her hands shook as she wrenched the dagger free from the doorframe, her hand closing around the ring.

“You’re nothing of the sort,” she spat, letting the dagger fall to the ground.

“May I wish you the best of luck,  _ Theodora _ ?” he drawled, his serpentine smile widening across his face, unnaturally large.

“Seems like  _ you _ need it more than  _ I _ do.” Finally, she was able to open the door. Slamming it shut behind her, she marched out of the building, right into the raging storm.

She really couldn’t have cared less about the rain, or the mob, or even the burning buildings around her. She just wanted to  _ leave _ . Shielding her eyes, she scanned the chaos of her surroundings, looking for Carlisle, the mobsters, and/or the Charleses.

Hissing laughter broke out to her immediate right. Sure enough, those slimy mobster-types began crawling out of the alley, grinning at her with sharp teeth.

“There you are,” the one-armed mobster hissed.

Unfortunately for them, she didn’t have the patience to deal with them. With a sigh, she began to walk away, maneuvering through the mob, ducking under punching arms, side-stepping shoved rioters.

“Hey— wait!” he barked. Theo didn’t wait, and she didn’t look back, she just kept walking, getting more soaked by the second. Catching up to her, the head mobster snarled, “You can’t just  _ walk away _ !”

She was exhausted enough— she didn’t want to  _ run _ on top of that. Dealing with Vabsley had drained her of all of her energy, and patience.

What did it matter? If she ran, they would run after her, the Charleses would eventually come out of hiding, and the whole business would be done with.

“Filthy human!” he hissed. Raising his clawed hand, he brought it down, too fast for Theo’s eyes to follow—

The blow never landed. Another hand closed around the mobster’s wrist, holding him back.

“Carlisle!” Theo gasped. She hadn’t seen him approach— it was a good thing he had.

“Hello, clod,” the mobster snarled with a sickening grimace. “Here to watch over your pet?”

“Do not lay your filthy hands on her,” Carlisle warned, his expression much darker than Theo had ever seen. Shoving the mobster away, he stepped between them, protecting her. He stood tall in that moment, a vision of confidence— quite possibly the most confident she had ever seen him.

Her heart flip-flopped in her chest as she gazed at him, completely lovestruck.

“Alright, alright,” the mobster conceded, raising his hands in defeat. “Go on and bring her to St. Louis, then. Cain’s waiting. You’ll want to get there while the city’s still standing.”

With that, the mobsters disappeared into a cloud of black smoke, the smell of brimstone and rot lingering behind. Exhaling sharply, Carlisle turned, looking her over.

“They did not hurt you, did they, Theo?” he asked, the storminess melting from his eyes, replaced with loving concern. Shaking her head, she managed a small smile. “And Mister Vabsley… he did not give you too much trouble, either, I hope?”

“He gave me trouble, alright,” she grumbled, immediately irritated at the memory of his audacious proclamations. Sighing quietly, she smiled up at him, the rain soaking her face. “But nothing I can’t handle.”

“Thank goodness,” he breathed. Gazing at him, she spread her arms wide, silently asking for his embrace. He obliged, taking her into his arms, and holding her close. “I was terrified for you.”

“I’m okay,” she assured him, nuzzling into his soaked shoulder. “Come on, let’s head back to the inn.”

“Happily.”

Looking up into his eyes, she smiled through the rain, blinking away any droplets that landed in her eyes. She didn’t care— to see his smile was worth it.

“We can catch a train to St. Louis first thing in the morning,” she offered. “For now, I just want to rest.”

“Then, allow me to lead the way.”

Vabsley’s office stood behind Carlisle. Even from their distance, she could see Vabsley standing at the window, looking out over the street, the mob… and yet, she knew his eyes were directly on her. She could sense it, somehow.

Carlisle turned, looking up at the building. Immediately, Vabsley fumbled with the window, forcing it open, and sticking his head out into the storm. He roared, his words swallowed by the mob of his making. It was completely unintelligible to her ears.

“Never mind him,” Carlisle smiled serenely. “Shall we?”

She smiled in return, taking his hand. “Happily.” Now that the immediate danger had passed, she was once more reminded of her dreams regarding her Divine Guide. A familiar knot worked itself into her stomach, simultaneously setting her on edge and making her as light as air.

She would just have to wait.

They walked, Vabsley’s incoherent screaming following them for several blocks. Even once they were out of earshot, she had a feeling he was still screaming in his office, cursing them, spitting venom.

She was correct.


	8. Darius Cain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! It's already December, which is hard to believe. I hope the remainder of the year treats the world kindly-- I think we could all use it. Please stay safe this holiday season, and spread kindness as much as you can, no matter how small the gesture may seem.
> 
> This month's songs are "Blood On My Name" (arguably, their most famous song, and a TOTAL bop!), and "A Second's Glance".
> 
> Thank you so much for continuing to support this project! As always, you can find me on my twitter (@soowonheika) and tumblr (longhairedantagonists). I hope you enjoy!

Theo had tried. She had well and truly tried to keep her temptations to herself— and that meant, namely, keeping her  _ hands _ to herself. However, the adrenaline of besting Vabsley at his impossible game clouded her judgment.

As she and Carlisle reached the door to their room— once more rain-soaked— she grabbed him by the upper arms, pulling herself closer to him.

“Theo?” he blinked, the key dangling off of his finger.

“Kiss me,” she begged, breathless as she looked up into his face. “Please—” She had barely gotten the word out before he obliged, cupping her face as he enveloped her in his warm embrace. Breaking the kiss, he peppered others along her cheeks, her nose, her forehead.

Pressing his forehead to hers, he sighed, relieved. Closing her eyes, she indulged in the moment as he unlocked the door. He kissed her again, needier than before, pulling her closer until she was flush against his chest.

Between kisses, he breathed, “I am so glad you are safe,” although, he was barely able to get the words out before she pulled him in again, wrapping her arms around his neck.

She was so happy. Finally,  _ finally _ , they were together. She had pushed past her arbitrary limits, and could enjoy her time with him. And she planned to enjoy it to the  _ fullest _ .

Tangled together, they stumbled into their room, barely able to keep their senses. Thankfully, Carlisle at least had enough remaining sense to lock the door behind them.

No sooner had he locked the door than she jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. He was able to support her easily enough, his strong hands gripping her thighs. Gasping, she broke away, her breath mingling with his.

He was just as disheveled and flushed as she was, which only managed to send her spiraling further. Really, how lucky was she? Having such a gorgeous man entirely to herself, to love for the rest of her days, hardly felt fair to everyone else.

_ Nuts to everyone else, _ she thought, kissing him again, all smiles.

Leading her to the bed, he gently lowered her onto the sheets, looking at her with all of the love and admiration the world had to offer. Reaching for him, she brought him closer once more, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

“Theo—” he gasped between kisses.

“Sorry, is that too fast?” she asked, breathless, praying that he would say no.

“Not at all,” he panted. Leave it to her Divine Guide to answer her prayers— and  _ more _ . Just as she made quick work of his shirt, he made quick work of her stockings, leaving less and less to the imagination with each passing second.

And then, dear reader, our hopeless protagonist woke up. A pity, indeed.

It had been another dream, and an overly-realistic one, at that. It didn’t even take place in some fantastical world— but rather, right in the bedroom they both shared, on the  _ bed _ they both shared! How cruel could her mind be?

Unfortunately for Theo, she had kept every ounce of her senses the evening prior. They had returned home, bathed, had dinner, and had promptly gone to bed. Nothing even remotely interesting or outstanding had happened.

Her mind was unusually foggy as she continued to wake up. There had been more of the dream, but she couldn’t remember the best details, for some reason. Why did it have to be the  _ good _ parts that she couldn’t remember?!

It was driving her mad. She wanted nothing more than to make her dreams into a reality, and yet, she felt oddly compelled to keep waiting. She had never been one to wait  _ before _ , so she wasn’t sure what it was about Carlisle that made her so accepting of abstinence.

Perhaps it was his Divine aura, or some nonsense. He was so good, he had no choice but to instill “good” in her— or something along those lines. It was something she would just have to wonder; she wasn’t about to  _ ask _ him.

But being driven to the brink,  _ every night _ , just to have it ripped away… it was really starting to get to her head. She understood not having him  _ physically _ , but couldn’t she  _ at least _ indulge in her dreams? Wasn’t that only  _ fair _ ?

_ Nuts. _

Rubbing her face, she laid back, staring at the ceiling. Carlisle, the ever-oblivious, stirred next to her, smiling easily.

“You are awake early. Good morning.”

For some reason, she felt surprisingly bitter, seeing his smiling face. Maybe because it was a horrid reminder of everything she couldn’t have— for some reason or another. Shaking her head, she shoved the negativity away, leaning up on her arms, and smiling at him.

“Good morning. Did you get your rest?”

“Yes, although, I feel I should take another trip to the office this morning,” he explained, sounding a little weaker than usual. “I fear Mister Vabsley, and his mob, had quite an effect on me.”

“You poor thing,” she murmured, pressing her hand to his forehead. He leaned into the touch, just slightly, smiling weakly.

“You are too good to me, Theo.”

“Nah, you’re too good to  _ me _ .” Laying back down, she watched him as he lowered himself to the bed once more, the dream still far too fresh in her mind. She could still hear the bedsprings creaking, his heavy breathing in her ear…

And  _ that _ was enough of  _ that _ line of thinking. Her face would spontaneously combust if she wasn’t careful!

Her heart was fluttering in her chest, leaving her feeling more anxious than exhilarated. As if detecting her unease, he pulled her into his embrace, resting his head atop hers.

“Are you terribly worried?” he asked, his voice quiet. “About me, that is… or perhaps you are worried about the other creditors?”

Well,  _ worried _ probably wasn’t the right word. However, at the mention of the creditors, her stomach clenched.

Vabsley’s warning rang through her memory. He had been entirely serious, it seemed. Cain and Devereux were wild cards, and should be treated as such. It made sense, seeing as how the other creditors had mentioned them rather often.

If they considered Cain and Devereux  _ superior _ to them, that didn’t bode well for Theo. She had only  _ barely  _ made it out of Vabsley’s office— and that was only out of a fluke.

“Well, now that you mention it,” she started, snuggling closer to him, “what do you know about Cain and Devereux? They’re the two odd ducks in this, aren’t they?”

“Mister Cain is a bit of a mystery, even to me, I am afraid,” he sighed, rubbing her back absent-mindedly. “Mister Devereux, well…”

“He has the stupidest name,” she giggled. Carlisle laughed, a bit uncomfortably.

“I would… personally advise against mocking them, Theo,” he hesitated, tittering uncomfortably. “They could have beings listening in on our conversations, and I would hate to think of what would happen to you, should you earn their ire.”

“Wouldn’t you know if they had someone listening in?”

“Well… yes.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about, is there?” she smiled, leaning back to look at him properly. Caressing his cheek with her thumb, she shook her head endearingly. “I know they’re tough, but if you don’t laugh in the face of danger every now and again, are you really living?”

“I suppose not…” he hesitated, his brow furrowed.

“So, then, why not joke around a little? Claudius Devereux is still just as ridiculous as the first time I heard it.” With a light chuckle, she brushed his hair out of his face, trying to ease his worries, even just a little bit. “You could say it with me, if you want. That way, we’re both in trouble.”

With a short laugh, and a sigh, he tilted her head forward, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Perhaps next time.” Lingering, his eyes fixed on her lips, he smiled slightly. Her heart began to hammer in her chest once more, twisting, and doing little flips.

There was the memory of that dream again.

“You are almost finished with this business,” he murmured, lightly tracing the bottom of her lip with his thumb. Leaning in closer, his breath mingled with hers as he whispered, “Hardly soon enough, in my opinion…”

She agreed! Whole-heartedly! If he was ready, so was she! Damn and blast to waiting!

“No,” he exhaled, a pitiful, pained attempt at a chuckle. “You wish to wait until you are done. I should not get in your way, I apologize.”

She could have screamed, right then and there.

“I should go to the office, before I start feeling too ill,” he smiled, pressing another kiss to her forehead. “I shall meet you for breakfast.”

“Okay,” she smiled, her gut twisting and churning as she watched him leave. She had her senses, sure, but she had an awful feeling that they weren’t going to stick around for much longer.

He really could deprive her of all reason, if he kept pushing her like that.

While Theo ate— still waiting for Carlisle— she realized that several couples nearby were overly tense with one another. Was it a result of the riots that broke out yesterday? Everything had seemed to calm down, so certainly, that couldn’t have been it, could it?

She heard a few mentions of  _ another man _ through the din of the restaurant. Well, whatever  _ had _ happened, it was obviously taking its toll on the couples nearby.

It struck her as odd, but she didn’t pay much mind to it.

By late morning, Theo and Carlisle were on the train bound for St. Louis, the summer storm almost seeming to follow them. The torrential rain and thunder never let up, painting the scenery with forked lightning, and swirling, dark clouds.

As Theo watched the storm, she reflected— for the umpteenth time that day— on the dream she had had the night prior. However, not for the usual reasons for reflection. Instead, something about it was bugging her.

She had remembered all of her other dreams with so much clarity, that had never been an issue. And yet, for some reason,  _ this _ dream was the exception. It was probably nothing— it wasn’t uncommon to forget her dreams after she woke up— but still… she had an odd, gut feeling about it.

“We know Cain’s in St. Louis,” she mumbled, speaking mostly to herself, “but we don’t know where Devereux is… right?”

“Indeed. I shall check the office archives after you have finished your business with Mister Cain. Someone has surely seen him recently. We may reference those files, if needed.”

The sixth creditor. It was almost hard to believe. So much time had already passed, and yet, hardly any, at all.

Was she wrong to feel confident? It certainly felt like it. Luck had been on her side ever since she had faced Robertson— with the exception of a few bumps along the way. The games seemed oddly skewed in her favor, despite the creditors’ best efforts.

And yet, as she leaned her head on Carlisle’s shoulder, her stomach tied itself into an uneasy knot. What would Cain have in store for her? What sort of hellish environment would she find herself in? What sort of being was he?

Only time could tell. Until then, she was left in the darkness of ignorance.

Carlisle laced their fingers together, holding her hand in his lap, resting his head against hers. Both of them remained silent, watching the stormy horizon. Their future was unknown, facing an adversary much larger than both of them. The end was nigh— possibly in more ways than one.

_ At least we have each other. _

“Are you worried?” he asked, voice low and quiet. It was enough to draw her eyes away from the storm, to his own stormy, blue-grey eyes. “You have been quiet.”

“Yeah… a little,” she admitted, downplaying her unease. Whether it was out of an attempt to spare her own ego, or out of an attempt to ease his own worries, she was unsure. “I’m just… thinking, mostly.”

With his free hand, he brushed a few strands of hair out of her face, his fingers lingering.

“You can share your thoughts with me, if you wish,” he whispered, concern written into his features. “I wish to do what I can to alleviate your fears.”

“You’re too sweet.” Smiling wanly, she fixed her eyes on their joined hands. “There’s not much to talk about, I guess. Just this whole business with Cain, and…” she trailed off.

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t also thinking of him, about that blasted dream that had been haunting her all day. What was worse, something compelled her to speak truthfully, although she couldn’t put her finger on what.

“... And you,” she finished, pursing her lips. Her stomach continued to tie itself into knots that would put the Boy Scouts to shame. “I’m thinking about you, too.”

His hand became warmer in hers, his face turning beet red. Opening and closing his mouth, he stammered, failing to form words. His stammering was punctuated with nervous tittering, which only made him blush harder.

“You, ah… are very honest,” he tittered, tracing outlines of various shapes on the back of her hand.

“Sorry— was that too much?” she asked, embarrassed at her own candid words. She hadn’t been embarrassed to say them, but his reaction was making her reconsider.

“Not at all… rather, it makes me quite happy to hear it,” he mumbled. Pressing his forehead to hers, his bashful smile was just barely visible. “I was hardly ever one to indulge before… and yet, I find myself craving your affection more than anything in the world.”

Her stomach flipped as their noses bumped, their lips nearly brushing, playing a very dangerous game, indeed.

“Theo… your wish,” he whispered, his lips narrowly missing her own.

“Damn my wish,” she whispered back, cupping his cheek, leaning into him. He only smiled in response. Tilting her head to the side, she leaned closer, her eyes fluttering closed as she closed the distance between them.

**_I want him._ **

**_I’LL HAVE HIM._ **

Her amulet— usually just something that weighed heavily against her chest— pulsed, stopping her short of his lips, only by a centimeter. She was about to ignore it, continue on, when it began to warm against her chest.

It became hotter.

And hotter.

And  _ hotter _ .

Letting out a scream, she recoiled from Carlisle, clawing at the amulet, white hot in her hands.

“Theo?!” Carlisle cried, eyes wide with concern.

She could feel the outline of the amulet, burned into her chest. Almost instantaneously, it began to cool, returning to its usual temperature, as if it never heated up to begin with. But it had burned her chest  _ and _ her hand… there was just no arguing with physical evidence.

“Theo, are you hurt? What happened?” he fretted, looking her over, tears forming in his eyes.

“The amulet… it…” she fumbled, unable to organize her thoughts. It had never done so much before, she just didn’t understand it. He took her hand, gently inspecting it. It had hurt, but it couldn’t have been more than a first-degree burn. “It burned me.”

“Oh, dear…” he tutted. “Shall I fetch some water for it?”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t think it’s that bad. I just didn’t expect it, that’s all.” Sighing, she turned away. “I’m sorry. I ruined…”

Trailing off, she turned away, curling in on herself. How many near-kisses had they had? Not only that, but she had gotten ahead of herself. Again.

It almost felt like a curse, in a way. Sure, she was lucky with the creditors, but she was  _ woefully  _ unlucky in love. They even had their chance, and yet, she was  _ still _ stopped every time she came close! It was as if there was some sadistic narrator running her life, like this was some sort of Penny Dreadful, and she was the pitiful protagonist!

Well, she wasn’t all that far off.

“Is the amulet still burning you?” he asked. She shook her head. “That is the amulet you received from The Entity, yes? Perhaps I should inspect it, and check that Mister Vabsley did not somehow place a curse on it.”

“But he never even came close to it. Is that even possible?”

“It is possible that he was able to get close enough, perhaps when you were distracted,” he explained, his brow furrowed. He held out his hand. “May I?”

**_NEVER. TAKE. IT. OFF._ **

A deep chill set into her bones, sending a shudder through her entire body. She could still clearly hear The Entity’s warning, despite the time that had passed.

Still, she wanted to know if it was cursed.

Leaning forward, she kept the amulet on, but tried to place it in his hand. However, before it could even make contact with his gloved hand, sparks flew out of it. Great bolts of lightning followed, not entirely unlike those ravaging the horizon.

Crying out, both of them recoiled. Currents of electricity exploded from the amulet, scorching the interior of their private train compartment. Once the amulet was far enough away from Carlisle’s hand, however, it returned to its usual state.

“What was that?” Theo cried. “It’s never done that before! Is it cursed?”

“No…” he sighed, flicking his hand a few times. “That was The Entity’s power. I recognize it.”

“Why did it react that way?” she asked, her heart hammering in her chest. She wasn’t sure how safe she felt wearing a contained lightning storm, even if The Entity  _ had _ given it to her. “She told me never to take it off, but I didn’t think  _ this  _ would happen.”

In the course of the past month, her life had been turned upside-down, completely on its head. She had faced nightmarish beings, with superhuman, manipulative powers, and had to look her own fate in the eyes, on  _ multiple _ occasions.

She had buried her father, fought off Creditors of a Financial Nature, and had conversed with a woman who made the term  _ supernatural _ seem inadequate. She had fought, long and hard, against all of these beings— some more than others.

With so many factors twisting and corrupting her life— personal and otherwise— it was no wonder that something like  _ this _ finally broke her down. All she wanted was one  _ measly _ kiss from the man she loved— was that so much to ask?

Tears rushed to her eyes, and, in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to be alone. Standing suddenly, she brushed her hair out of her face.

“I’m sorry— I need a minute.”

“Theo?”

Storming out of the compartment, she chose a direction, and began walking, fighting against the motions of the train. With tears streaming down her face, she pushed her way through the different cars, past indifferently concerned passengers.

Finally, she found herself in the luggage car. Finding a spot between a couple of trunks, she took a seat, burying her head into her knees. She let herself cry, no matter how childish she knew it was. She was throwing a fit, sure, but she had had one  _ hell _ of a month.

Crying quietly— in that self-deprecating,  _ I shouldn’t be crying over something this trivial _ sort of way— she replayed the memory of the sparks in her head, over and over. It didn’t make any sense! It was as if The Entity was punishing her for getting distracted, or something equally as arbitrary.

_ It just isn’t fair, _ she thought, feeling overwhelmingly bitter. But, at the same time, she would most likely be returning the amulet when all of this was over, right? Then, as soon as it was off, she would throw herself into the arms of her lover.

About fifteen minutes had passed when the door to the car opened. Theo didn’t bother looking up; she was still throwing her fit, and would  _ act _ like it, thank you very much. Sure, she might have come to a tentative solution for her current predicament, but she was still upset— and rightfully so, in her mind.

“Here you are.” It was Carlisle, obviously, speaking in his usual, soft tone. Taking a seat next to her, he didn’t touch her— mostly out of consideration for her current state, it seemed. Although, she was sure he would be much more hesitant to come near her, now that the amulet deemed them an improper couple. “I was quite worried about you, however, I completely understand if you would prefer to remain alone at this time.”

He really was too sweet. Even through the last remainders of her tears, she found herself smiling at his concern.

“No…” she managed, somewhat more dramatically than what the situation entailed. “It’s fine, you can stay here.”

An actress, through and through. Melodramatic to the end.

Carlisle, as endearing as he was, only chuckled, gently taking her hand in his own. For a moment, she flinched, expecting the amulet to react once more. However, it remained dormant.

Oh, so  _ holding hands _ was appropriate, but if she wanted a single kiss, she was at the mercy of its wrath? What a joke.

“Perhaps, if you wish…” he started, his voice wavering a little, and his hand growing warm. “You… could… in theory, of course, once we find our room for the evening… well, ah… remove the amulet?”

Finally, she lifted her head, just to be met with a particularly flustered-looking Carlisle. Pursing his lips together, he was as red as a tomato, and pointedly averting his gaze. Coughing out a nervous titter, he stammered for a few more seconds before he managed to speak in coherent sentences once more.

“Of course— well, this is terribly improper of me to even  _ suggest _ , however, I, ah… well… I would very much like to…” he trailed off, tugging at his collar. “I would… I would very much like to…” Letting out another cough, he tried to mask it with another nervous titter. “If… if you could forgive me for being so bold… and forward… and tactless… I would… like to… oh, dear, no, I would  _ very _ much like to… ki…  _ ki _ …” Theo patiently waited for him to find the courage to finish the sentence, far too amused to interrupt.    
“...  _ kiss you _ _?”_ he finally managed to squeak.

**_DO NOT._ **

**_TAKE._ **

**_THE AMULET._ **

**_OFF._ **

“Well… if you think it would be okay,” she giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I… think it may be, yes,” he tittered, still beet red. “Of course, at the first sign of any negative effects, we should immediately replace it! I would hate to think that you might be placed in any danger because of my…” he faltered, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Well…”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence— she knew what he meant.  _ Carnal desires, _ to put it lightly. Well, thankfully for him, she was in quite the same boat.

Against all judgment— better or otherwise— she couldn’t wait until they reached their inn. She could toss caution to the wind, for the first time in a month, and indulge, just as she had wished.

At least, that was her plan. The universe, however, was not so forgiving.

Upon arriving at the station in St. Louis— both Carlisle and Theo bundles of excited, anxious nerves— they were met with the worst possible welcome party. The mobsters, with their shadowy, obscured faces, blocked the exit, although the other passengers seemed unaware of their existence.

“There she is,” the one-armed, head mobster hissed, a poisonous smile pulling at his lips. “Just in time.”

“Cain’s waitin’,” another mobster spat. “And he don’t like to be kept waitin’.”

“You’re goin’ to see him right now, girlie. C’mon. This way.”

“But—” she started, casting a wide-eyed look to Carlisle, whose stormy expression caught her off-guard. “Carlisle—”

“If Mister Cain wishes to see you, then I am afraid I cannot step in,” he explained, his gaze falling. Taking her hands, he tried to reassure her. “I apologize, Theo. There is nothing I can do.”

Her heart squeezed in her chest, but she nodded, all the same.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she promised, hoping to instill a little more confidence in both of them.

“I shall be waiting for you.”

“Can it, clod,” a mobster snarled. “Stop gettin’ in Cain’s way.”

“Hey!” Theo snapped. “Give us a minute, okay?” Sneering at her, the mobsters raised their hands defensively, grumbling under their breath. Shooting them a nasty glare, she stuck her tongue out at them before turning back to Carlisle. “I’ll be okay, I promise. Just wait for me.”

Cupping her cheek, he smiled at her, full of love and admiration and goodness, just as he always had. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Be safe.” Pulling her into a warm embrace, he lowered his mouth to her ear, and whispered, “You must control your temper around Mister Cain. That is my warning for you.”

“I will.” Turning around, she stepped forward, chin held high as she rejoined the mobsters. “Alright, take me to Cain.”

“Oh, done already, are ya? I was expectin’ you to—”

“I don’t have to hear this from you,” she growled, poking the one-armed mobster in the chest. “Lead the way, so I can get this over with.”

Spitting to the side, he cursed under his breath, turning on his heel to lead the way. Theo followed, glancing over her shoulder at Carlisle—

_ One last time, _ the thought formed in her head, setting her on edge. Even as she blew a kiss to him, she felt an odd sense of finality as she walked away from the train station.

The mobsters said nothing as they led her to Cain’s hideout, a sleazy-looking funeral home in a rundown part of town. By the time they opened the door, she was soaked to the bone from the rain, her hair sticking to her forehead and cheeks.

They pushed through the lobby, knocking on a side wall— which seemed oddly hollow. Sure enough, the wall opened out, revealing a small staircase that descended to a lower level. She had seen this a few times before— it was the typical (if not stereotypical) entrance to a speakeasy.

“Ladies first,” the head mobster sneered, gesturing to the staircase with his good arm. Taking a breath, she descended the stairs, holding the railing with all of her might. If one of those mobsters was going to push her down the stairs, she’d at least make it difficult on them.

As she took the stairs, one at a time, her nose was assaulted with a strong, distinct smell. It was something she had experienced a few times before— namely in Robertson and Walker’s establishments. Slowing to a stop, she covered her nose, hesitant to go any further.

“Keep walkin’.”

She wouldn’t have protested, even if she could have. With white knuckles, she clutched the hand rail, taking the last few stairs down, her stomach churning with each step.

It was silent. No music, no talking, no chattering…  _ nothing _ . It was unnaturally still, the smell of blood enveloping the room and everything in it. As more of the room came into view, she froze once more, covering her mouth to stifle a scream.

Bodies. Mangled, mutilated bodies littered the floor of the speakeasy. Each body seemed to tell a different story, victims of horrendous, gruesome murders. The bodies that hadn’t been decapitated had slack jaws, still open in silent, eternal screams.

None of the corpses that remained were entirely intact. If they weren’t missing limbs, they were missing their heads. Arms, legs, and necks stuck out at unnatural angles, reaching for the unknown. Bones punctured skin, or the extremities were torn off at the sockets.

More mobsters sat around the perimeter of the room, laughing as Theo entered, and laughing harder when she gagged.

Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, the hem of her dress only narrowly missing pools of congealed blood.

“C’mon, girlie, up and at ‘em,” the head mobster laughed, hooking his arm under hers, and forcing her to her feet. “Boss is right over there, y’know? He’s not really the patient type, either.”

Straight ahead, sitting at the bar with his back turned to her, was an absolute behemoth of a man. He never looked back— instead, he picked up his bottle of whiskey, and poured himself another glass.

His clothes hinted at a simpler background— a stained, white shirt, and suspenders that crossed over his back— but his build made it seem as if he had worked the railroads his entire life.

Slamming the glass down— hard enough to send a message, but not hard enough to shatter it— he straightened, letting out a deep, raspy sigh as he downed his entire glass in one go.

The mobster continued to push Theo forward, laughing in her ear the entire time. Her eyes caught on every corpse they passed, on the mutilated states that they had been left in, her imagination painting too much of the picture.

“We’ve brought ‘er to ya, boss,” the mobster laughed. “Just as promised.” Cain still said nothing; he only poured himself another drink. He didn’t even bother to look at them. With twitching, jerking movements, the mobster left Theo, peering into Cain’s face. “Uh, boss? The girl’s here, just like ya asked.”

The laughter petered out, replaced by the shuffling of feet. Out of the corner of her eye— alas, she was too afraid to look away from the creditor before her— she could see the remaining mobsters backing away, slinking along the wall, inching towards the only way out.

Sparing them one glance, she was met with their horrified visages. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes flashing back to Cain.

Throwing back his drink, he set the glass down. Once more, there was too much force behind the movement, shattering the brittle silence of the room.

“Uh—” the mobster choked, his grin faltering. “Boss…?”

_ Stop talking, _ Theo begged silently.

She had come across this sort of creature before; in the patient ones whose fuses finally ran out, the ones that chose silence over expletives, who looked their greatest adversaries in the eye as they stood tall, a rock against the raging sea.

And yet, they were not figures of kindness, or serenity, but of power, and control. They were the ones who took man’s greatest weapon, and harnessed it with finesse.

Without a word, Cain reached for the mobster, grabbing him by the throat. The mobster’s eyes went wide, the pupil disappearing in yellow, reptilian eyes. Cain got to his feet, standing at nearly seven feet tall, reminiscent of the pictures of grizzly bears that Theo had seen.

“B-Boss—! Please—!”

“You’re lucky she’s still in one piece,” Cain snarled, his hold on the mobster’s neck so tight, his knuckles were turning white. The mobster writhed in his grip, suspended over the floor, clawing at Cain’s hand with his own, his eyes wide in terror.

“I—” he choked, his veins popping out of his temple. He looked at Theo, perhaps for help, and yet, she couldn’t move, her fear overriding her sense of justice. “I’m sor—”

His words were cut off when Cain grunted, tightening his grip so suddenly, and so violently, that the mobster’s neck  _ snapped _ . The sound of the bone shattering echoed in the crowded room, searing itself into her mind. The mobster’s head lolled awkwardly to the side, his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

Cain dropped him, his body dissipating into thick, black smoke as soon as it collapsed to the floor. Stepping past the shadowy remains of the one-armed mobster, he addressed the room. He hadn’t looked at Theo yet, and— after  _ that _ — she didn’t  _ want _ him to.

“Now,” he boomed, his voice even, and with the authority of a warden. “I told all of you to get the Wilkes girl, and bring ‘er to me before she got talkin’ to the others.” Pointing back at her, he rumbled, “This girl has conducted business with  _ five _ of us.”

“We—”

“We couldn’t help it!”

“The DIA was on our case!”

“Yeah, we couldn’t get near ‘er!”

“We tried, boss, we really did!”

Cain didn’t say a word, he only cast his gaze across the room, swiveling his head from corner to corner. The mobsters immediately stopped their squabbling, backing themselves against the walls of the speakeasy.

“Get outta my sight,” was all he said, his voice remaining level. With a collective, terrified, screeching hiss, they disappeared in a huge cloud of smoke, leaving Theo alone with her creditor.

She didn’t dare speak, or even look at him for too long. Who knew how long he would go without blowing up?

Judging by the state of the bodies in the room, he had just exploded, not too long before; she had only walked into the wake of the waves.

Cain lumbered back to his barstool, sinking himself down onto the inappropriately-sized stool, and pouring himself another drink. Still, he refused to look at her, pointedly ignoring her.

“Um…” she mumbled, wringing her hands together. “Sir…? I’m sorry…”

He only pointed to the barstool immediately to his right, his large, meaty paws nearly as large as her face. Swallowing hard, she slinked onto the stool, making the mistake of looking behind the bar.

Another body. No doubt, the bartender. The poor fellow had an axe lodged into his face.

“My name is Theodora Wilkes,” she said, unsure of where to even begin.

Cain kept his eyes glued forward, his greasy, stringy hair stuck to his balding head, and his deeply scarred face nearly beyond repair. This was a man who had obviously been in many barroom brawls in his day— the most recent seeming to be today’s.

“I know who you are,” he replied, curt and low.

She hesitated. All of the confidence she had had when facing Vabsley had mysteriously and conveniently disappeared.

Even his presence was different from the others; they had been malicious, yes, but they had been upfront about it. They had been sharks in the water, their fins breaking the surface, warning her of the danger she was getting herself into.

Cain, however, was the large beast that lurked in the deeps, the beast that ate the sharks.

“I’m… here to contest the contract,” she said, her voice wavering, her hands shaking. However, she had to fight off the urge to ask  _ is that okay? _

With a derisive snort, he stuck his hand into his shirt pocket, producing a deck of cards, oddly stained, and well-worn. Her heart fell— not cards  _ again _ .

“Poker.”

_ Not a man of many words, are you? _ she thought. His eyes flicked to hers, and she flinched— could he hear her thoughts? She certainly wouldn’t put it outside of the realm of possibility.

Shifting in her seat, she watched as he shuffled, and dealt the cards. His fingers weren’t straight— signs of being broken in the past. His rolled up, dirtied sleeves revealed his forearms, his deep, heavy scars almost obscuring his tattoos.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” he rumbled, shooting her a sidelong glare. “Ain’t you ever see scars before?”

“Yessir…”

“Then what’re you sittin’ there gawkin’ for?” When he spoke, his voice was low, masking the volatile threats that lay beneath his words. He might not have been the explosive type, one to yell or scream or cuss, but he wasn’t above violence, and it showed.

Theo returned her gaze to her own cards, completely cowed by his presence. “... Nothing, sir.” Her eyes drifted down towards where the mobster had fallen, the stain that his black smoke had left behind. “... The mobsters worked for you, then?”

“Less talkin, more playin’.”

Pursing her lips, she let out a shaky breath, her hands trembling. “I hope you don’t mind, but I want to chat a bit first.” When he shot her another glare— half-hearted, but still with its weight— she added, “What if you win? I’d like to have one… last conversation before I go.”

Heaving a great sigh, he shifted in his seat, leaning his arm on the bar. When he looked at her, it was as if he didn’t actually see her— his eyes landed on her, and yet, seemed to pass through her. She was so far beneath him, she wasn’t even worth looking at.

“You women. Always chattering.”

For her own well-being, she ignored the blatant misogyny. Instead of asking for further permission, she jumped straight into it, stalling for as much time as she could. 

“Your tattoos… I’ve seen them before. Walker had them, I think.”

“We all do. Part of the sentence, part of the deal.”

Coughing up phlegm, he shifted again, pointing to the bartender on the floor. She followed his gaze— and immediately, she regretted it. The body began to convulse, its joints forcing themselves back into place as the corpse struggled to stand.

The empty husk of the bartender dug its fingernails into the bar, scratching off tiny shavings of the wooden finish as it forced itself to stand. Bile filled Theo’s throat as she watched the phenomenon unfold before her.

The dead man stood, his split head sagging to the side. He gazed at a fixed point in front of him, one eyeball bulging out of its exposed socket.

“Drinks,” Cain demanded— although it was difficult to differentiate between his normal tone and his commands.

The bartender turned, mindlessly (literally) following the order, moving as a marionette would. Pouring two cups of whiskey, he slid them towards the only two living patrons, leaving the bottle between them.

Cain waved him off, and immediately, the body clamored to the floor, nothing more than a heap of broken bones and rotting flesh.

“Talkin’ is thirsty work,” was all Cain said, seemingly ignorant to Theo’s absolute horror.

Once again, she made the mistake of looking down at the bartender. His cloudy, empty, bulging eyes gazed at her, his jaw agape. It took every ounce of her willpower not to scream, or cry, or vomit.

“What’re you so afraid of? He’s past his prime.” The madman actually  _ laughed _ at this, a hoarse barking sound. It was far worse than any roar he could have released, in her opinion. “What?” he laughed, mocking and dark. “Is it because he’s lookin’ at you? Here, Wilkes, I’ll do you a favor, then.”

Getting to his feet— a monumental feat for a behemoth such as himself— he hurdled over the bar with a loud grunt, landing beside the bartender. Leaning over, he extracted the axe from the man’s face with a sickening crunch.

Cain held the axe with the same amount of responsibility as a child held a stick they found on the side of the road. His back blocked the bartender’s head from view— mercifully so, she thought. Indeed, she was right, as he gave her a disgusting, bloodcurdling grin over his shoulder right before he brought the axe down.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned away from the ghoulish man, her imagination running rampant to fill in the gaps. The axe cut through flesh and muscle and sinew and bone, finally colliding with the wood floor with a sickening crunch.

“There. Now he won’t look at you,” he chuckled, kicking the head away before hurdling over the counter once more. Turning away, she finally opened her eyes right as Cain settled on the barstool once more. The splatter of old blood created new stains on his face and clothes, but it hardly seemed to bother him.

If anything, he seemed almost… rejuvenated.

“Why did you do that?” Her mouth was barely able to form the words; her teeth were chattering and her tongue was dry, not to mention the bile that kept rising into her throat.

“‘Cause it’s my nature, Wilkes. You’ve met so many of us, and you haven’t even figured that out yet?” Leaning closer, his hot, rancid breath hit her face as he spoke evenly. “This is what we’re meant to do. We don’t do our jobs, and we get sick, we die, we’re replaced. I’ve held onto this job for eight hundred years, and I ain’t about to lose it.”

With trembling hands, she clutched her skirts, holding her chin as high as she could, just so she could look him in the eye.

“Is that why these people…?” she asked, motioning to the remaining corpses in the speakeasy. “Did you do this to them? To protect yourself?”

He grinned, his maws threatening to open up and devour her whole. She was staring death in the face, and she knew it, and yet, she found herself frozen in place.

Whether it was out of fear or courage, she wasn’t sure.

“I come in, I rile ‘em up, and they do the work for me. I just finish off the stragglers.”

“Is a life worth so little to you?”

“It’s taken thousands of lives to sustain me, and it’ll take thousands more to keep me goin’.”

The stifling silence; the muggy, stagnant air; the blood splattered across the walls, and the gore covering the floors… it had far more effect on her than she would have liked. She was disgusted, yes— but not at her surroundings, rather, at the one who brought about those circumstances.

A deep, resounding hatred, slow and barely simmering, began to surface in her, churning her stomach. He disgusted her— he was nothing more than a blight on the living.

Had the people here even fallen victim to his influence, his manipulation? Or had they only been in the wrong place at the wrong time?

She wanted to see him destroyed. Not by her own hand, and not for her own sake, but for the sake of the rest of humanity.

_ If only, _ she thought, unaware that her darkest wish would come true soon enough. Disgust, after all, was a powerful thing— though not quite as powerful as a fully-loaded pistol.

Well, not that Theo knew  _ that _ . Not yet, that is. She would learn soon enough.

“Got your chattin’ out of your system, Wilkes?” he grumbled, returning to his usual, glowering affect. “I don’t like stickin’ ‘round one place for too long. You humans run from the stench of blood, even if you don’t know it.”

Digging his hand into his shirt pocket, he produced a handful of poker chips. He dropped them onto the bar, the clattering of the chips shattering the delicate silence of the speakeasy.

“Three chips each. One chip per round. Whoever runs out first, loses.”

Picking up his cards, he nodded towards her, brusque and hypermasculine. Seems like her stalling had been cut short, and now, she was left to face the situation she had been placed in. Lovely!

Finally, she faced the reality of the hand she had been dealt— both literally and figuratively. It wasn’t looking good… literally  _ or _ figuratively.

“... Any special rules I should know about?” she ventured, eyeing Cain carefully as she slid a single chip forward. “One-eyed Jack’s wild, or anything?”

“Don’t got time for such lousy rules.”

… Well, there went  _ that _ chance. She was hoping she could have a little more leeway by having a wild card. Alas, Cain was the impatient sort.

One pair of Queens. It wasn’t much. Throwing her other three cards— including the aforementioned one-eyed Jack— into the discard pile, she drew three more.

_ Alright… alright… _

A deeper part of her scoffed.  _ You will need more than two pairs to beat him. _

Well, that certainly wasn’t reassuring.

Cain went about fiddling around with his hand, his expression remaining as emotionless as usual. Granted, she would take this neutrality over his horrific grin from earlier. Even at the memory of it, a shudder wracked her spine.

Puffing out his chest, Cain placed his cards on the bar, his nostrils flaring as he smirked.

“Full house.”

“Two pairs…” she sighed. It wasn’t good enough— that voice in her head had been right, as usual.

_ Of course I am right, darling. I am  _ **_always_ ** _ right. _

_Yeah, yeah, yeah._ _Stupid conscience._

It was only one loss. She still had two chances. She could do this. After all, she had done a few of these games by this point, and she usually had a rough start. It was nothing to worry about.

Sliding forward another chip, she waited for Cain to deal her new hand to her.

“You’re awful calm, Wilkes,” he remarked as he dealt the cards. She picked up her hand, immediately relaxing at the sight. Three of a kind, already.

Forcing her expression to remain as neutral as possible— something her father hammered into her head  _ every _ time they had played poker together— she discarded two cards, and drew two new ones. Regardless of her attempts at neutrality, Cain eyed her, scowling more and more with each passing second.

_ He knows. _

With a stormy glower, he discarded his entire hand, his meaty paws enveloping the entire pile. Cursing under his breath, he drew a new hand. Although, once he examined his new hand, he spat, throwing his cards onto the bar.

“I fold.”

One to one. With a shaky exhale, she laid out her cards. As soon as his eyes landed on her winning hand, the bartender’s spine snapped, his corpse lurching to the left. For the first time since his unfortunate decapitation, Theo looked at the poor man, her heart jerking in her chest as she watched his body twitch.

Try as the corpse might, he couldn’t bring himself to his feet, his legs twitching and jerking fruitlessly, unable to properly operate without a head, it seemed.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she forced herself to look away, although the image was burned into her memory, mixing with the other corpses she had encountered on her quest. She could only hope it would be the last time she’d  _ ever _ have to see such a sight.

It wouldn’t be.

Once more, they each slid a chip forward. The air around them was stagnant, suffocating, and yet, incredibly charged. No matter how much he tried to hide his anger, his veins still bulged, his cheeks still turned ruddy, and his hands still shook.

He slammed her hand down in front of her, scaring her so badly that she nearly fell off of the stool.

“You better not be a damn cheat, like that pa of yours.”

“He wasn’t a cheat.”

“The seven of us would be disagreein’ with that.” Grabbing the bottle of whiskey, he took a heavy swig from it, a strand of saliva dangling from his lips. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve— reminding her of a belligerent child— he slammed the bottle down. “They’ve been talkin’, y’know. Passin’ talk down the line. Robertson called first, then Walker, Dods, Harrington, and just got a call from Vabsley last night. They say you gotta be cheatin’, and I think the same. There’s no way a little girl like you could beat all five of ‘em.”

Her eye twitched as she examined her cards. Very good. Very good, indeed. A flush— five cards, all clubs. A two, a seven, a three, a king, and a ten.

“The Entity told me not to cheat, and I’m following her rules. If I have good luck, take it up with her, not me.”

He exchanged a few cards, grinding his jaw as he contemplated his hand.

“You had Vabsley spittin’ fire.”

“Seemed to me he was long overdue for it,” she grumbled. It felt like  _ Cain _ was stalling for time, for a change of pace. Her curiosity, however, got the best of her. “You all have been talking about me?”

“Since you left Robertson’s.” Laying his cards out on the table, he grumbled, “Straight.”

“Flush,” she smiled, laying out her beautiful, winning hand. Before she could gloat further, however, Cain grabbed her by the front of her dress, and yanked her forward, off of the bar stool.

“You cheat.”

“I’m not a cheat!” she cried, balancing herself between the seat and the floor. “You all accuse me of cheating, but you’re just as bad— if not  _ worse _ !”

“You owe us a debt, Wilkes, don’t forget that. Your soul’s still forfeit. The others might’ve gone easy on you, but I ain’t about to forgive you, or your pa.”

Her stomach lurched as he glared at her, his eyes exposing his soulless nature. He didn’t care what became of her— whether she wound up living or dead or somewhere in between— he just wanted his contract fulfilled.

No amount of apologizing, or begging, or pleading could ever change his mind, and it showed. Setting her jaw, she looked him in the eye.

“I’m not here to ask for your forgiveness,” she said evenly, her eyes unwavering. “Now, let go of me, and let’s continue.”

Narrowing his eyes, he released her with an abrupt shove. She caught herself by digging her nails into the bar, much as the bartender had only a few minutes prior.

Now, if she could just avoid the same fate as that poor man.

“You’ve got a real smart mouth, woman.” He dealt out new hands for them both, and slid all of his chips forward. “I’m gettin’ tired of listenin’ to you. All or nothin’, right now.”

_ All or nothing? _ Was he  _ insane? _ She had been doing well enough, sure, but was she willing to ride  _ everything _ on a single round? No!

Still, it was his challenge, and his rules, leaving her little room to protest.

“... Okay. You’re on.” With shaky hands, she slid all of her chips forward, and picked up her cards.

Immediately, the blood drained from her face. Junk. It was a junk hand. Absolutely nothing to work with. Although her eyes were glued to her cards, she felt the oddest pull to Cain’s grizzled face, the unstoppable urge to look at him.

As her eyes traveled up, she was met with another one of his bloodcurdling grins, so ugly and so feral that she understood why the mobsters had answered to him. They were an extension of him; shadowy appendages to support his movements, his influence flowing through his far-reaching veins as the darkest blood of the country.

Theo knew better than to test his temper, and yet, she couldn’t stop herself.

“You planned this,” she hissed, tears flooding her eyes.

“You accusin’ me of cheatin’?” he challenged, leaning forward, snarling in her face. “How would  _ I _ know if you had a bad hand? Seems like you’re just a sore loser.”

Perhaps it was because he was a creditor— not only that, but one of the worst, according to her sources— or perhaps because she could feel the beginnings of his influence scratching at her senses, begging to be let in, to grip her mind, her soul, her psyche… but she was sure of it. She was  _ sure _ he was cheating. He  _ had _ to be.

Her hand balled into a fist. She could easily clean his clock, teach him a lesson, despite their difference in stature. Wouldn’t it be so sickeningly  _ satisfying _ to see that grin wiped off of his face?

_ “You must control your temper around Mister Cain. That is my warning for you.” _

Taking a deep breath of rancid air, she fumbled with her impulses, trying to cool her head. She couldn’t just fly off the handle like that— she had to keep her anger under control.

This was just another scheme. She couldn’t lose— not here, not now… right?

Taking another look at the horrible hand she had been dealt, she arbitrarily chose two cards, and discarded the rest. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she glanced over her cards, knowing that her luck would turn around. That’s what it always did!

It seems, however, that her luck had finally run out.

All she had was one  _ measly _ pair of nines. It was far too much to hinge an all-or-nothing bet on. Still, there might have been hope; she didn’t know what Cain had. Maybe he was bluffing.

That had to be it. He  _ had _ to be bluffing. She couldn’t just…  _ lose _ . Not now, not after all this time, all of these games.

It had always been her victory, no matter what the odds were. Even if the creditors cheated, or connived, or calculated nefarious plots against her… she  _ always _ won. Facing Robertson’s roulette, Walker’s dice, Dods’ cards, and Vabsley’s knife, she had always won in the end.

So when Cain showed his hand, and she was met with yet another full house, her head spun so violently that she nearly toppled off the stool.

She… lost? Her entire journey, the blood, the fear, the pain… all of it was for  _ nothing _ ?

“Debt’s filled, Wilkes,” he smirked, palming all of the chips. Grabbing his hand, tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked up at him, eyes wide and pleading. She couldn’t gasp out a single word before he shook her off. “Deal’s a deal. You lost, you’re mine.”

Her throat tightened as she gasped for air, drowning in the stagnating air. “Please—”

“You  _ lost _ .”

“One more chance!” she cried, her voice failing her when it mattered most. “ _ Please. _ ”

If it hadn’t been for his all-or-nothing bet, then she would still have a fighting chance. This was all  _ his _ fault, not  _ hers! _ He must have known what the cards would be— he must have been counting cards, reading her mind, reading the patterns on the back of her cards…  _ something! _

“You’re sore,” he growled, snarling at her. Reaching for him once more, she swallowed a sob. Getting to her feet, unsure as a newborn deer, she took shakier and shakier breaths as the reality began to settle upon her.

“Please…” she begged, both of her hands clinging onto one of his. “Please… just  _ one _ more chance.” Her voice broke and wavered, sounding just as hopeless as she felt.

Sinking to her knees, amongst the blood and muck of the speakeasy floor, she held onto his hand, her only tether to her corporeal body. Tears fell freely, her makeup running down her cheeks.

She couldn’t lose…

_ She couldn’t lose… _

“Tell ya what,” he started, lighting a beacon of hope within her. “You get  _ one _ shot. You screw this up, and that’s it.”

“Thank you!” she breathed.

“You’re outta chips, so you gotta make your bet.” Pulling her to her feet with one hand, he shoved a meaty finger— more sausage-shaped than not— into the square of her chest, directly at the amulet she had received from The Entity. Embers sparked from it as he drew closer, just as it had with Carlisle. “The necklace for your soul.”

**_DON’T YOU DARE!_ **

Every alarm in her head warned her against taking such a risky bet. But it was either make  _ this _ bet, or forfeit entirely. She couldn’t just say  _ no _ .

It was a risk she would have to take.

**_LISTEN TO ME!!_ **

“... Then I bet my amulet,” she whimpered, swallowing as much of her fear as she could.

**_THEODORA WILKES, YOU FOOL!!_ **

“Go ‘head and put it down, then.”

**_DO NOT_ **

**_TAKE OFF_ **

**_THE AMULET!!_ ** ****

With glistening eyes, she looked up at him, her executioner, as she lifted the amulet over her head, and placed it on the bar. Screeching, animalistic screaming seemed to echo in her mind, however faint, or faraway.

_ I’m sorry, _ she thought, although no one heard her.

The chain clattered against the bar as she slammed it down, her hand shaking so violently that she struggled to pick up her cards.

Another poor hand, but she had been dealt a pair of aces, at the very least. She still had a chance.

The air around her seemed to rumble, to pulsate, a steady thrum to match her heartbeat. With each beat, a new wave of pain washed over her, starting in her temples, and traveling over her entire head. The lights— no matter how dim— were far too bright, the smell of rot and blood overwhelming and nauseating, the taste of iron heavy on her tongue.

The mobsters had long since left, and yet, she could still hear them, snickering, laughing, their hissing voices wrapping around her in a thick, discombobulating fog.

She had to finish the game. She  _ had _ to.

Discarding three of her cards, she swapped them out, squinting hard against the light. Despite the spinning of the room— she had to grab onto the bar to steady herself— she was able to see her hand.

Hope. She had a chance. Four of a kind— by some  _ miracle _ , four of a kind! Aces!

She had a chance!

Cain— whose face was foggy, unfocused, constantly shifting through the dimness— exchanged his cards, seemingly unaffected by the noxious gas that was filling the room.

“Lookin’ green there,” he noted, sounding muffled, and faraway. She didn’t answer. Swallowing down the bile that built up in her throat, she clutched onto her cards for dear life. Finally, far too slowly, he laid his cards down for her to see. “Royal flush.”

Once more, her world rocked, the room spinning, round and round. It wasn’t right— it couldn’t be right. A royal flush could beat a four of a kind, yes, but…

“You cheated.” Laying out her cards, she pointed to them, glaring at him with all of her might. Lucidity dawned on her as she growled, “How do you explain  _ five _ aces, huh?”

“How do I know  _ you _ ain’t got the fifth ace, Wilkes?” he challenged, eyeing her. “ _ You’re _ the daughter of the cheat.”

“I didn’t  _ cheat _ !” she snapped, her head throbbing from the exertion. Stumbling to her feet, she poked a finger into his chest. “I’ve played your stupid game, and you  _ cheated _ . I won, fair and square.”

Cain stood, too. When he stood, the building seemed to shake down to its very foundations— or perhaps that was her faintness acting up. Her head pounded with every beat of her heart. And although being nearly two feet shorter than this behemoth, she stood as tall as she could manage.

“You accusin’ me of  _ cheatin’ _ ?” he growled, looming over her, his face shadowed over. She could swear she saw smoke rising around him, thin tendrils leaking out from his nose and mouth, his eyes glowing in the blinding darkness.

And yet, she didn’t care.

“You can’t have me!” she roared, craning her neck back. “Cheating bastards like you don’t deserve the mud on my shoes!”

Raising his hand, he closed it over her face, and shoved her back, sending her tumbling amongst the corpses that littered the floors. That was just the shove she needed— both literally and figuratively. It tipped her over the edge, her fuse finally,  _ finally _ running out.

Despite sliding through pools of gore, she hardly cared. Pushing herself to her feet, her nostrils flared as she breathed, her hands shaking as they balled themselves into fists.

“ _ YOU FILTHY CHEAT!!” _ Rushing forward, she drew her blood-drenched fist back, aiming right for his gut. Releasing a primal scream, her fist collided with his stomach, the reverberation rattling her to her core.

He only laughed. Clearing his throat, he spit out a thick globule of saliva, right at her feet. Before she could fight back, his hand closed around her throat, lifting her off the ground.

Wildly kicking her legs, she was suspended two feet off of the ground. His hand remained tight around her throat, slowly cutting off her air.

As he glared at her, his glowing eyes flashing, his dark grin consumed his face as the smoke continued to billow out of his nostrils. When he spoke, clouds of smoke escaped with each formed letter.

“You forgot the first rule, Wilkes,” he laughed. “Lose your temper, lose your soul.”

Somewhere in the blinding, white-hot rage that she felt, Carlisle’s serene smile broke through the frenzy. She vaguely remembered his words, his warning… but it was too late.

“Welcome to the sweatshop.” The smoke began to cloud around her, consuming her. With each fruitless breath she took, the more her vision would fail her, the less of her body she could feel. “Your soul’s mine.”

Her body went limp in his grip, little more than a ragdoll for him to throw around. Unhinging his jaw, rows and rows and rows of teeth exposing themselves, he swallowed down her soul in one, horrendous gulp.

  
  


Outside, the storm raged on, the wind thrashing the city, lightning striking the nearby buildings, the Arch. The lights in the funeral parlor flickered and failed, finally extinguishing themselves.

There, in the rain, stood the Divine Guide.

He had failed. He had failed his mission, his superiors, but most importantly, he had failed  _ her _ . She had disappeared into oblivion; all that was left of her was the amulet that had otherwise never left her person. He picked it up, and pocketed it.

All across the country, the creditors sensed the shift in the atmosphere. Even The Entity, from her faraway dimension, looked out over her domain, her expression cross.

The Debtors Wilkes were no longer. The debt had been paid, in full, to one Mister Darius Cain.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Darkness. Only darkness. _

_ “Wilkes. Get over here.” _

**_Purpose_ ** _. _

_ “Yes, Mister Cain?” _

_ A whisper. “Get under his skin.” _

**_Purpose_ ** _. A target. Fresh meat. _

_ Whispering. Sweet nothings to distract. Memorizing the cards. _

_ The meat speaks. No matter. _

_ No focus. Blurry. _

_ “He’s got a three of a kind.” _

_ Shouting. Outrage. Fodder. _

_ Blood. Splatter. Warmth. _

_ Crunch the patrons. _

**_Purpose._ **

_ Flames. Screams. Crunch. _

_ No purpose. _

_ No matter. _

_ Night. _

_ Day. _

_ No purpose. _

_ Night again. Darkness again. _

_ Day again. _

_ Night again. _

_ Screams. Blood. Flames. Rot. _

_ Apathy. _

_ Patrons. Food. _

_ “Wilkes.”  _ **_Purpose._ **

_ “Yes, Mister Cain?” _

_ Glow. “Y’know what to do.” _

_ Yells. Feasts. _

_ More food. More blood. _

_ Twisted limbs. Anguish. Smile. Teeth. Too many teeth. _

_ Crunch. _

_ Crunch. _

_ CRUNCH. _

_ Day again. _

_ Night again. _

_ The 4th of July approaches. Distant joy. _

_ I want to celebrate. _

**_NOT ALLOWED, WILKES._ **

_ … Ah. _

_ “Sorry.” _

_ Another game. More fodder. Rile them. _

_ A pretty face with hazy eyes. _

_ Whisper? Not Cain’s, not fodder’s? “Theo.” _

_ Familiar. Why? _

_ “Theo, over here.” _

_ Wander. _

_ Wonder. _

_ Who? _

_ Familiar? _

_ “Put this on.” _

_ “You’re not Mister Cain.” _

_ “Please, Theo. It’s me, Carlisle.” _

_ Carlisle? Familiar. Why? _

_ “Do you remember?” _

_ No. Or yes? _

_ “Your amulet—” _

_ No. _

_ Bad magic. _

_ Cancellation. _

_ “No.” _

_ “Theo, please—” _

_ “I don’t know you.” _

_ Lie? _

_ “Forgive me.” _

_ Held—? _

  
  
  


Proper, human consciousness returned slowly, and with it, the crushing weight of mortality. Like the Sleeping Beauty of many fairy tales, Theo emerged from her soulless, eternally dark haze in the embrace of her one true love.

For a moment, she thought it was only a memory of a faraway dream, a distant remnant of her humanity. Of course, in order to have such memories, she would  _ need _ humanity.

No, she was quite sure. This wasn’t the same as what had been.

She was the princess of this fairy tale, and Carlisle, her knight in shining armor. In the darkness of a cellar-turned-poker-room, Carlisle kissed her, bringing the amulet over his head, and transferring it over hers.

Breaking the kiss, he looked at her, tears in his eyes.

“Theo,  _ please _ —” he whispered, his fingers trailing across her cheek. “Please come back to me.”

“Carlisle…” she breathed, her voice breaking as tears flooded her vision. She had been lost, stuck in the spiraling darkness of soullessness. He had come for her. He had saved her. “I’m sorry—”

“No, no, do not apologize,” he fretted, wiping away the tears that fell from her eyes. “You are safe, for now, but we must take our leave  _ immediately _ .”

It was too fast for her to keep up with. How had she come back? How had he saved her? Didn’t she lose? What did that mean for the debt?

Grabbing her hand, he led her towards the door, staying close to the walls. It was not enough, however, as her movements were still being tracked by her former employer.

“Wilkes,” Cain grumbled, never looking away from the poker game he was involved in. Four other men sat at the table, grinding their teeth, ignoring him. It was a high stakes game, as evident by the tension in the atmosphere, and the mountain of chips on the table. “Where’re you goin’?”

Carlisle broke into a sprint, pulling her along with him up the stairs, heading straight for the exit. Cain’s chair clattered, thrown against the bottom of the stairwell, narrowly missing her heels.

**_“WILKES!!”_ ** The building shook with his roar, chips and fine lines forming in the walls, the plaster falling off in chunks.

“Theo, this way!”

**_“AFTER HER!”_ **

Amidst the cacophony of shouted words, bloodcurdling screams, running footsteps, creaking wood, and crumbling stone, she heard the hissing laughter of the mobsters. In a black, massive wave, they crashed over the foot of the stairs, reaching and scratching for her.

Carlisle cleared the head of the stairs, but when he tried to pull her through the door, the mobsters’ hands grabbed her arms, her legs, her wrists, her hands, her waist, her neck, her ankles, every square inch of her covered in their smoky talons. Pulling her back, her hand slipped out of Carlisle’s, grasping for nothing but air.

“Carlisle!” she cried, fighting against the mobsters with everything she had. However, between one human and twenty shadowy, otherworldly beings, she was bound to lose. They dragged her back down the stairs, back to the cellar. “Let me  _ go _ !!”

As much as she thrashed, bit, and clawed, they never gave her an inch of leeway. Swept away in the dark ocean of their influence, she was carried to the foot of the stairs, straight into Cain’s waiting vice grip.

“You little bitch. Tryin’ to run, huh?” he spat, hoisting her off the floor by a single arm, her shoulder popping out of its socket.

She screamed. As much as she wanted to fight against it, to hardly give him the pleasure, the pain was too extreme, her shoulder already aflame in pulsating pain.

“It’s clod’s fault,” a mobster hissed. “He came for her.”

“Should’ve known he’d show his sorry face.”

Cain tossed her to the floor like a used ragdoll. She slid, bruising her hip and scraping up her leg, until she came to a stop directly before the corpse of one of Cain’s former patrons, freshly dead. His jaw was broken, frozen in an eternal, anguished scream, blood pouring out of his cracked skull.

With a scream, she scrambled away, scooting along the floor, her knees too weak to support her. Holding her wounded shoulder, she swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat as she looked over the massacre in the room.

The four men that had been playing cards with Cain just  _ seconds _ before had all been slain, their bodies in various, gory states. She forced herself to look away before she could memorize the scene. She had seen enough death to last her a lifetime.

“Come down here and show your face, boy!” Cain roared up the stairs.

“No, Carlisle! Don’t!” she yelled, although her voice was swallowed by the mobsters’ haze. Slow, hesitant footsteps began to descend the stairs. “No!”

Several mobsters skittered up the stairs, climbing the walls, crawling across the ceiling, as flexible as the shadows they emulated. Carlisle’s steps were hastened, and soon enough, the mobsters brought him into view, their permanent grins seeming wider than usual.

“Been a while, boy.” The mobsters held Carlisle in place before Cain, though he didn’t seem to fight it. He spared Theo a single glance before bowing his head, hiding his expression.

Try as she might, she couldn’t force herself to her feet. She was frozen to the spot— although it was beginning to dawn on her that it wasn’t shock holding her there, but rather, some invisible force.

_ Cain knows him. _

… He knew Carlisle? But how? Carlisle had never even left the office before helping her.

“You oughta know better than movin’ in on another contract,” Cain scoffed. “‘Course, you always’ve been a real ornery kid.”

Thrashing against the invisible force, Theo tried to free herself from its grip, but it held fast, its invisible, needle-sharp talons digging into her skin.

_ Watch. _

“Let me go!” she hissed, trying, once more, to force herself to her feet. Alas, to no avail.

She had no choice but to watch on in horror, the cogs of her still-foggy mind working slowly. Clutching her wounded shoulder, a sinking, heavy knot formed itself in her stomach.

“Let ‘im go,” Cain ordered. The mobsters obeyed, releasing Carlisle, who still kept his head bowed. “You’re one clever son of a bitch, Devereux, I’ll give ya that.”

Theo was about to open her mouth to protest, to distract Cain, anything it took, but then it  _ clicked. _

She knew that name.

“‘Devereux’...?” she gasped, barely a whisper. No… that was Carlisle. That was  _ her _ Carlisle standing there, not some creditor. He loved her. Why would he save her if he was one of them? It just didn’t make sense.

“Told ya clod was in on it,” one of the mobsters snickered.

_ Not “clod”, _ that incessant voice echoed in her foggy head, pushing her along, forcing realization upon her.  _ They are saying “Claude”. _

Carlisle tensed, curling in on himself. He began to convulse, only slightly, almost seeming to shiver. Then she heard the laughter— dark, derisive…  _ mocking _ .

Had she not already been seated on the floor, her legs would have buckled from underneath her, sending her to her knees. Tears flooded her vision as realization dawned upon her, heartbreak and despair and betrayal and hopelessness gripping every nerve in her body like strings from a marionette.

_ No… it can’t be. _

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him, no matter how much her vision blurred or wobbled. Tears streaked down her cheeks, her heart sinking further and further in her chest.

_ Please, Carlisle… please, tell them they’re wrong. _

Finally, he raised his head, his expression starkly different. The sight of it sent a jolt through her, her core tightening with the heartbreaking realization. He smirked, smug, if not mildly annoyed. When he spoke, his voice wasn’t the same as the one she knew. It was arrogant, rude, indignant.

“You just  _ had _ to go and ruin my fun, didn’t you?” Carlisle— no,  _ Devereux _ — scoffed. His face twisted into an ugly, arrogant scowl— only a ghost of the man she thought she knew. Tossing his hat to the side, he ran a hand through his hair. “A month of  _ torture _ , and for what? For you to ruin it at the last minute.”

With glowing, bright blue eyes, Devereux’s icy, mocking gaze flicked to her.

“Poor, little Theo,” he sneered. “Couldn’t control your temper, could you? Figures. Now you’re all tied up in a messy contract, and you need your dear, old ‘Divine Guide’ to help you out.”

This had to be a nightmare. That’s what it had to be. She was dreaming all of this— she hadn’t even met Cain yet. None of it had really happened— it had all been one, long, eternal nightmare. Carlisle would never look at her like this. He would never speak like this.

Lifting her hand, she reached for him, still hoping against all hope that, deep down, he was still the Carlisle she knew and loved. She wanted nothing more than to feel his fingers twine with hers, to hold onto the moments that had never seemed fleeting, and yet, had been torn away from her before she knew it.

“Well, for old times’ sake, I’ll oblige. You can rely on Carlisle Adamson  _ one last time _ .”

“Carlisle…?” she whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat as she reached for him.

“The hell’re you plannin’—?”

That was all Cain could say before he was rudely interrupted by a gunshot, the echo reverberating through the room, shattering her eardrums. If she screamed, she couldn’t hear it over the ringing in her ears.

“Boss—!” A cacophony of voices, somehow far away. In the commotion of the moment, she couldn’t focus, could hardly see.

Cain stumbled back, his legs wobbling under his tremendous weight. They buckled, and he fell backwards, his body cratering the wooden floor upon impact, splintering the wood.

There, right between his unresponsive eyes, was a single bullet hole.

Darius Cain, a creditor that had lived through centuries of self-created wars, was now nothing more than an unmoving slab of rotten meat. Standing over him, pistol still smoking with otherworldly, shimmering smoke, was the smirking, shadowy form of Claudius Devereux.


	9. Claudius Devereux - Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! I hope that this year brings everyone peace and good health, and that you and yours are all happy, healthy, and staying safe. Please remember to take care of one another, but also to take time to care for yourself, too. This year has been hard on everyone, and you never know how much a random act of kindness can last in someone's mind. Make 2021 a year of kindness, good will, and inner peace.
> 
> That being said! Ironically, there isn't really a song by The Brothers Bright that inspired this chapter. Rather, the song "Edward (Room 4:12)" by American Murder Song is the one most suiting our dashing, last creditor ;^)
> 
> This chapter is so beefy, that it had to be split into two parts. Part II will be posted one week from now, on January 8th! I hope you enjoy!

Before the unfortunate passing of Theophilus Wilkes, word had spread amongst the Divine ranks that he had promised his soul to all seven creditors. And for what? For his daughter, and a rinky-dink theatre?

Claudius Devereux wasn’t one to be impressed by such shows of sentimental dramatics. Nor did he particularly appreciate the thought of  _ sharing _ a soul with six of his colleagues. What, did those bureaucrats think that one-seventh of a soul was enough to keep him going? Hardly.

When the rest started becoming antsy, talking about moving in and collecting Wilkes’ soul before he tried anything smart, an idea began to form in his head.

Wilkes had to be made of sterner stuff to face all seven of them, and live to tell the tale. Obviously, his soul wasn’t going to be small potatoes— he was going to be one that they would want to keep around.

Maybe he’d even survive being Devereux’s assistant. Wouldn’t  _ that _ be nice?

If Devereux played all of his cards right, then he could take Wilkes’ soul for himself, right from under the noses of the other creditors.

Seemed like a trip to New York was in order.

Knocking on Wilkes’ dressing room door, he gave his brightest grin when greeting the other man.

“Hiya, Wilkesy.” The door was slammed in his face. He couldn’t say he was all that surprised. “C’mon, Wilkesy, I’m not here to collect. I’m just here for a chat. I had an idea, you see, and thought of sharing it with you.”

It was enough get him to open the door, at least.

“I thought I told you to  _ never _ show your face around here.”

“Well, sure, but you hardly have the time to  _ leave _ , so I figured I’d come to you,” Devereux smiled, lighting a cigarette. “Don’t worry, I stayed out of sight.”

Finally, Wilkes began to relax. Devereux told him of his plan: to exploit a loophole in the contract, and get out of eternal servitude to  _ any _ of them. If Wilkes timed it right, then his soul would go to The Entity, who had no use for formerly-mortal assistants, and he would go right on his way to the afterlife.

Wilkes glared at him, nursing a glass of moonshine. Obviously, he didn’t believe a word coming out of Devereux’s mouth— fair, considering he was sure he’d feel the same way if he were in Wilkes’ position.

“Why are you telling me this? This cheats  _ you _ out of my soul, too.”

“Y’see, between sharing your soul, and never having it at all, I’d take the latter. The thought of passing you around like some child’s plaything sickens me to my core.”

It was the truth— at least, partially.

In actuality, Devereux had his own plan. If he got there in time, then Wilkes’ soul would go to him, and him,  _ alone. _ It was a flawless plan, given that Wilkes was naive enough to actually believe anything a creditor told him.

“They’re planning on collecting on the night of June 8th, this year,” he explained, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Don’t go telling any of them about this, either. They won’t be as generous as I am.”

Of course, the other creditors were the least of his worries. Aside from Cain, none of them would cause that much of a ruckus. Vabsley would spit fire, as he tended to, but after their history together, it was what he deserved.

Everyone else knew their place. They wouldn’t start too much trouble. At least, nothing he couldn’t handle.

The night of June 8th arrived. As discussed, Wilkes sabotaged the lighting rig, loosening it so that it would come crashing down on him, killing him.

Honestly, Devereux had to applaud his creativity. He could have just taken the easy way out, as most humans would, but he had to go the extra mile, didn’t he? Typical actor-type.

He was ready. Wilkes would be the meal of the century, and he’d make a half-decent assistant, too. While the other buffoons waited in the mezzanine, he would be backstage, ready to swoop in, and grab that soul while it was forfeit.

Lurking in the shadow of the wings, he watched the performance come to its end. Its very  _ final _ end. The madman actually crushed his own skull! It was impressive, he had to admit.

Unfortunately, however, he had miscalculated. He had expected the others to run from the gory scene… not  _ to it. _

_ “Papa!” _

As the cast rushed forward, Devereux hung back, watching as Wilkes’ soul floated up from the crater the light had made, all the way to the mezzanine. No doubt straight into the hands of The Entity.

He had missed his chance. Cursing under his breath, he skulked out of the theatre, sticking to the shadowy alleys of New York, taking out his aggressions on any passerby that fell under his influence.

Which was to say, quite a few.

How could he have miscalculated like that? Why couldn’t the castmates react like  _ normal _ human beings, and make space? The audience had run— the least they could do was react similarly.

Particularly that one girl. Who did she think she was, throwing herself at a body like that?

_ Wait a minute. _

She had said…  _ Papa. _ As in…  _ Wilkes’ daughter? _ The one he had sold his soul to protect and provide for?

He had a child. That’s right. How could he have forgotten?

And now…  _ her _ soul would have to do. She was his daughter; surely, she was made of the same “sterner stuff” as her father had been! Devereux might have missed out on her father’s soul, but  _ hers _ would do, just fine.

He could have laughed. It was perfect.

But if Devereux knew about her, then, no doubt, The Entity did, as well. The other creditors, too. What would The Entity do to the girl, now that her soul was forfeit? Splice her, and call it a day? No, surely not. Not for the Wilkes case. Her father had worked so hard, it would be anticlimactic to just split her up between the seven of them.

No… The Entity wouldn’t settle for that. She loved her dramatics just as much as the humans did.

Devereux waited, skulking about in the shadows, sticking close to the theatre, doing what he could to keep his influence to a minimum. If he even wanted a  _ shot _ at the Wilkes’ soul, he’d have to be patient… and careful.

Finally, after a week of waiting, his hard work paid off. The Entity visited the Wilkes’ girl. Eavesdropping on the conversation, he understood  _ exactly _ what she was aiming at. The Entity wanted to teach them all a lesson, huh? Well, he’d give her a taste of her own medicine. No one got the best of Claudius Devereux— not even the boss.

Just his luck, too, the Divine Guide had already been assigned. Some chump from Accounting. It wasn’t all that difficult to intercept him, lock him away in some pocket dimension, steal his identity. He had closed the door on the pocket dimension before the poor sap could even get out a measly cry for help.

Of course, there was acting the part. That was the difficult thing.

How did those Divine types act? Weren’t they all over-the-top nice, pure as the driven snow, and absolutely tiring rays of sunshine?

Well, that was how  _ he _ saw them, at least. Wilkes Jr. wouldn’t know the difference. What did she know of the Divine? The Entity?

Please, it was a piece of cake. He’d have her soul before the week was out. She wouldn’t even know what hit her.

Dressed the part of one of those bums, he knocked on her door, and gave her a smile that oozed Divine goodness.

“Ah, Miss Wilkes?”

She looked up at him, and, judging by her reaction, she was already inclined to follow him to the ends of the earth. The poor girl fell apart within  _ minutes _ of meeting him! Honestly, it was almost too easy.

He’d send her into the creditors’ dens alone, let her figure it out. A real Divine Guide would accompany her, but if any of the others found out he was sticking that close to her, there’d be hell to pay. He doubted he would even get a chance to win her soul for himself.

The girl was surprisingly stubborn. Just like her father, she managed to stand her ground against the creditors. He had half-expected her to fall to Robertson, and yet, she had kept a tight hold on her soul.

Seemed like his hunch had been correct. She’d be a  _ fantastic _ meal. She’d survive meeting the others, and throw herself into his arms at the end of the day. Easy as pie.

At least, that’s what he had been inclined to believe. What had started as a walk in the park quickly became a hike through the Himalayas.

She could  _ resist _ him. How could she  _ resist _ him?  _ No one _ could resist him! She was oohing and aahing over him at every turn, how was she  _ not _ falling to his influence?!

Then he saw it— it had just been a flash, but he knew that gaudy style  _ anywhere. _ An amulet, given to her by The Entity. Of  _ course  _ the boss had given her a failsafe. Typical.

Fine. If she wasn’t going to fall on her own, then he’d just have to help her. Giving her a little push wouldn’t hurt, would it?

So he pushed. And pushed. And  _ pushed. _

Gentle smiles, kind words, comfort, encouragement… everything those Divine saps exuded from their spots on-high, looking down on the rest of the world with saccharine disdain. As much as it pained him, even sickened him, he maintained the image of the perfectly pathetic Carlisle Adamson.

He gave her as much information about the other creditors as he could— putting the rest of them at a horrendous disadvantage. While he couldn’t outright state what role they played— due to some legal scandals from a few centuries prior, they were all forced to sign non-disclosure agreements— he could allude to them. Robertson, Walker, Dods, Harrington, Vabsley, Cain, and...

“And? What’s his name?”

“Mister Claudius Devereux.”

“ _ Seriously _ ?” she scoffed, sending a twinge of irritation through each of his nerve endings. What was  _ that _ supposed to mean?

“Whatever is wrong, Miss Wilkes?” he asked, hoping she didn’t notice that he had ground his teeth together, for just a moment.

“‘Claudius Devereux’? That’s the most pretentious name I’ve ever heard! And I’m from the Vaudeville scene,  _ off Broadway. _ ”

It was…  _ what? _

What did  _ she  _ know? She was nothing more than an idiotic, naive human! She was a moron! She believed every word that came out of his mouth, no question asked! And  _ he _ was the pretentious one?!

“Give me a break.”

How his hand itched to slap her across that smart mouth of hers.

“Is… something wrong with his name… Miss Wilkes?” he said wanly, managing a tense smile. “It does not seem so pretentious to me.”

“Really?” she scoffed. “If a man introduced himself to me as  _ Claudius Devereux, _ I think I would laugh in his face. It sounds fake, it sounds pretentious, and it sounds like something a dastardly villain in a poorly written Penny Dreadful would call himself.”

_ If only you knew, toots, _ he thought, his temper threatening to boil over.  _ It’s not like Theodora Wilkes is any better. _

“... Ah. Perhaps this is a bit nuanced for me…?” he trailed off, forcing a titter. Wrapping up the conversation as quickly as he could, he excused himself before he did something he regret— namely, breaking the façade that he had been painstakingly maintaining.

He wouldn’t let her get to him. He’d leave her for a few minutes, take out his aggressions on a few of the passengers aboard, and return, just as smiley and vapid as ever. It was enough to make him sick.

Never before had he  _ ever _ had to work this hard for a decent meal. How unfortunate that he was already committed to the act, and couldn’t just unhinge his jaw to swallow her whole, right then and there.

_ No, _ he thought with a silent sigh,  _ that would be the quitter’s way out. _

As tiring as it was to pretend to be unbothered by her irritating demeanor, what tired him out more were the obstacles that they had to face. After all, there had been  _ plenty _ .

First, the Wilkes girl got stuck in a vortex for a few days. The vacation was nice— gave him some breathing room, some time to rejuvenate after his forced bout of abstinence. It wasn’t like it mattered, he could tell she was still alive in there. She could take her time, for all he cared.

Then, Cain’s henchmen— the mobsters, to Theo— appeared, and they instantly recognized him.

“Hand the girl over, Claude. She’s fair game.”

Wilkes didn’t react— was she unable to hear them? Or was she simply so terrified that she  _ couldn’t  _ react?

Still, they got away— just barely— and she never mentioned it. If she caught onto his little act, she didn’t betray it in her expression, in the way she looked at him, the way she acted.

No, he realized, she was none the wiser.

She really  _ was _ a naive idiot.

Of course, it wasn’t that easy. They couldn’t just  _ outrun _ the henchmen. They would hunt them down— that was usually in their line of work, unfortunately, and he doubted this would be any exception.

Sure enough, after Wilkes fell asleep on the train— another perfect opportunity for him to force the illusion of closeness and emotional intimacy— he smelled the shadowy bastards. They were lurking on the train, and it wasn’t long before they opened the compartment door.

“Claude, there you are.”

“Shh,” he shushed, cradling Wilkes with one arm, and manifesting his pistol with the other. Pointing it at the one-armed henchman, he cocked it, keeping his finger on the trigger. “The girl’s sleeping. I’d hate for her to wake up and see you here.”

Stirring in his arms, she nuzzled closer, showing no signs of waking. He glanced down at her with a small smile, before meeting the henchman’s gaze once more.

“If you wake her, you’re gonna  _ wish _ Walker finished you off,” he warned, his smile juxtaposing his words. “If you, or any of the others, make a move on  _ my _ territory, I’ll draw and quarter you myself. Bother her during her time with the others, sure, but walk in on  _ my _ time? Well…” Holding up the pistol, his grin widened. “Cain’s not the only one with a temper.”

The henchman stiffened, his infallible grin faltering, just momentarily.

“Cain’s gonna have my head if I don’t get him the girl.”

“And I’ll have your guts if you interrupt me.” He aimed the gun at the space between his eyes, a silencer materializing along the barrel. “She doesn’t  _ have _ to hear this, if I don’t want her to. Do you  _ really _ want to test my patience?”

“Listen, pal—”

“You are going to leave. Close the door behind you. Then you, and all your little lizard friends, will swiftly  _ depart _ this train.”

“But—” A silent bullet lodged itself into the wood panelling beside his head. Quirking an eyebrow at him, Devereux cocked the pistol once more. “Alright. You got yourself a deal. But if we catch the girl between shifts, then that ain’t  _ my _ fault.”

“We’ll see about that.”

With a scoff, the henchman left. Devereux relaxed, letting the pistol fall from his hand onto the compartment floor. It dissipated into shadows, leaving no trace behind.

He half-expected Wilkes to have been awake the whole time. Thankfully, after her prolonged stay in Walker’s vortex, she was practically catatonic. Bless her human fatigue.

When they pulled into the train station, he made a point of standing between her and the bullet hole, thus blocking it from her view. Not that it was all that difficult, with his stature.

Dods was hardly an issue. As long as no one had something newer or shinier than him, he didn’t pay them any notice. It was the DIA that made more of a fuss— though it was nothing Devereux couldn’t handle. All in all, it seemed to be going his way.

That is, until he realized that she was three creditors in,  _ already _ . If she was going to throw herself at him the old-fashioned way, he was running out of time, and he’d need to get creative. He needed to stall for more time while he thought of a new plan.

It struck him as he was stuck in bed next to her (not even in the  _ fun _ way, he might add). Gazing down at her sleeping figure, he realized that he could bring out the big guns: getting inside her head.

Easy enough, but draining as all hell. It took a lot to maintain a form within someone’s dreams. It was going to put him through the wringer, but it would be worth it in the long run.

Just his luck, her dream was realistic. He gave her an inch, a teaser at what could be, and woke her up just in time to have her wanting more. With how she acted all day, he could tell how much he had gotten under her skin.

If he had even an ounce of sympathy in his body, he’d feel bad for the poor girl.

With how much she was draining him, however, he felt little more than annoyed disdain for her. A creditor of his status couldn’t go that long without using their power, and even just 24 hours of abstinence was beginning to send him to his sick bed.

Thankfully, he spun some lie about atmospheric influences, or some such nonsense, which she promptly believed, as per usual. A few trysts, here and there, and he was back to feeling back to his normal self. Although, having to hide his behavior like some shameful, mortal harlot was absolutely degrading.

It was after one of these “office trips” that he ran into the woman he had been fearing the most. Walking into the diner, he locked eyes with The Entity, herself.

If it wasn’t going to give him away, he would have cursed, right then and there. Perhaps she hadn’t said anything to Wilkes? Perhaps he was still in the clear?

Approaching him, her claws— or maybe her mandibles, he couldn’t tell— dug into his shoulders, piercing the skin, reaching for his very essence. How he hated speaking to her; something like this  _ always _ happened. Her voice warped as she whispered in his ear, the many voices of the universe blending together to create a quiet, distorted harmony.

“I did not tell her who you are, dear.” She didn’t? He was nearly relieved, but he knew how she operated. She wouldn’t let him get away with this. “But know that I do not abide cheating. Even if you do obtain that young woman’s soul, you will have to answer to me first. Do you understand?”

What choice did he have, but to nod, to agree with her? He  _ enjoyed _ his job, and he  _ enjoyed _ existing. Obviously, getting on The Entity’s last nerve was a death sentence!

“That innocent act of yours grows ever tiresome. Either finish the job, or gut her, but you have no excuse for not succeeding. I cannot stand watching this circus any longer.”

He should have known that she knew what he was up to. No doubt, that amulet was tied to her essence, and she had been watching everything from her throne. There had been a few rumors floating around in the past few centuries that she had spies  _ everywhere. _ With the amount of power she held, he believed it.

He’d just have to make quick work of Wilkes. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, the idiotic girl didn’t succumb to temptation. He could tell she wanted it— he could  _ feel  _ it from her! So why was she holding back? What sort of twisted morals did this girl have?

No matter what dirty tricks he pulled, she never budged. She stuck to her guns, to her  _ morals _ (ugh), until it all culminated in one, cataclysmic conversation.

“We can’t,” she had whispered, after nearly succumbing to his influence  _ twice _ . “I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t believe his ears.

“What is wrong?” Desperately trying to balance his façade, and his motives, he attempted to coax her out of this horrendous spell of rationality that she had thrown herself into.

Claudius Devereux would coerce her, of course, but Carlisle Adamson  _ would not _ . He couldn’t risk giving himself up. Not now. Not so far into the game.

“I’ve been thinking about this, and… Carlisle, you’re wonderful. I’ve had so much fun with you, but… we’re  _ different _ .”

_ No. _

“You’re a Divine Guide. You’re just starting out. At the end of this whole mess, you’ll have to leave.”

_ NO!! _

“I…” he scrambled, trying to think of something,  _ anything, _ that could change her mind. “I do not  _ want _ to leave you.”

“And that’s the problem.”

_ DAMN YOU!! _

“You should enjoy yourself. You should go and help other people. You said it yourself: you  _ like _ helping people. I can’t take that away from you.”

He had caught himself in his web of lies. Did she even  _ hear _ herself? She  _ couldn’t _ end it here— not like this!

He had been  _ so close! _

“... If I were to  _ choose  _ to stay with you—”

“No. No. I can’t—” she sighed. “I could never ask someone to give up their dream for me. I can’t. It’s not fair to you, and I could never sleep at night knowing that I made you do that.”

Rage consumed him, blinded him. He couldn’t believe she was actually  _ rejecting _ him. She didn’t even  _ want _ to!

“I can’t ask that of you, and it’s because I care about you that I won’t. And… if it will be easier for you, and easier for me in the long run… I think we shouldn’t go any further than this.”

_ I hate you. _

“I’m sorry, Carlisle. I just don’t want to—  _ hurt  _ you.”

_ I despise you, Wilkes. _

As she sobbed, whispering how sorry she was, over and over, he barely heard her. Instead, hatred consumed him, ran as fire through his veins.

How much had he humiliated himself for this? Was it even worth it anymore? Should he just snap her neck, right then and there, and end it? The Entity’s rage would be  _ sanctuary  _ compared to this hell he had put himself in.

_ No. I won’t give up. She’ll pay for this. _

Claudius Devereux was not about to be bested by some  _ human. _

_ “... Then that shall prove to them that there are still some very clever people in this world.” _ That was what The Entity had told Wilkes, on that fateful day. Had she known he was listening in?

Who was he kidding? Of  _ course _ she knew.

Is that why she gave Wilkes the amulet? To try and stop him from achieving his goals, however she could? Was she doing it to annoy him, to get under his skin? Was she trying to prove that this poor sap, this Wilkes girl, was actually  _ clever _ ?

She wasn’t clever— she was  _ lucky _ ! There was certainly a difference! Getting The Entity’s blessing wasn’t a show of wit, it was a show of  _ favoritism _ .

Her protests hardly lasted long. It hadn’t even been a full day before she was begging him to return to his normal charade of lovestruck fool. There was a little hiccup, sure, but he was back on track to fulfilling his goals.

That is, until that fool from Harrington’s came chasing after her.

“Theo!!” a voice called, accompanied by running footsteps heading straight for them. They bumbled over to the two of them, their hazy eyes surprisingly clear, considering their occupation. “There you are! I thought I missed you!”

Devereux had worked so hard to stay out of sight of the other creditors. It was bad enough that Cain (no doubt) knew of his involvement with the Wilkes girl— but now, he had been caught  _ red-handed _ with her.

Harrington had always been a sentimental old fool. No doubt he’d be attached to Wilkes Jr., just as he had been attached to Wilkes Sr.. Just his luck.

It was too late for him to make a mad dash away. If anything, that would seem  _ more  _ suspicious. But why was this assistant coming after her in the first place? They obviously weren’t threatening her— he just didn’t get it.

Then, they held out the rose.

“If you wouldn’t mind… maybe I could steal a kiss?”

He wasn’t about to compete with some country bumpkin! What’s worse, she was stepping closer to them! What was she trying to do? Punish him for  _ her _ indecision?

Thinking quickly, he put his arm around her shoulder, stopping her from going any further. In order for this to work, he needed to be the  _ only _ one she saw. She couldn’t go falling for some hazy-eyed punk.

“I am afraid Miss Wilkes must remain focused on her Divine mission.” Could she tell how tense he was? Could she see the set of his jaw, the twitch in his eye?

“Oh… sorry, didn’t realize it was so serious.”

_ Yeah, kid. Back off. _ He couldn’t get rid of the problem, unfortunately. Harrington would blow a gasket if something happened to any of his assistants, despite having as many as he did.

Wilkes seemed rather proud of herself, puffing out her chest like a pompous little bird. What was going through her mind? Did she think he was jealous? Hardly.

She was  _ his _ meal,  _ his _ contract. The others would have to make do for themselves.

Matters only became more complicated when Wilkes wanted to know why he detested Vabsley. Naturally, a Divine Guide— particularly one as “inexperienced” as Carlisle Adamson— wouldn’t have come into contact with a creditor.

Spinning a tale about some long-departed friend, or supervisor, or  _ whatever _ , he managed to look pathetic enough for her to pity him. Not like it was all that difficult. The Divine saps were all spineless morons, anyway.

Of course, the hatred he felt for Vabsley was quite real. That was quite possibly the only honest thing he had ever expressed to her.

As both of them had been hired around the same time, they were constantly compared to one another, constantly ordered to work together to wreak havoc on humanity. That had been annoying enough, on its own.

Then, there was Gibbs.

Gibbs was a mortal who wished to enter a contract with both Vabsley and Devereux, simultaneously. Whatever his reasoning was, Devereux hardly cared.

When it came time to collect, Vabsley forgot his place, and tried to move in on Devereux’s territory. He pushed back, challenging him for the right to Gibbs’ soul. But Vabsley, arrogant bastard that he was, refused to concede.

Their bickering continued for months and months. Both of them pulled on Gibbs’ soul, demanding their share, until, finally, the ethereal threads holding it together came loose. It ripped to shreds, much like a ragdoll that had been used for tug-of-war between two cruel children.

“Look what you did!”

“Me? It was  _ you _ !”

Neither of them could have a meal out of those scraps. Neither of them got an assistant. Neither of them could have even an ounce of what they wanted.

They had been bitter enemies ever since.

Devereux refused to let that happen again. Wilkes’ soul would be his, and he’d kill Vabsley if he even  _ tried _ to lay claim to her soul. It was his  _ right. _

If he was being honest with himself— which, out of principle, he never,  _ ever _ was— he was only looking for a reason to get rid of Vabsley. If Wilkes happened to be that reason, so be it. He had killed for less.

If it was his choice, she wouldn’t meet Vabsley at all. He was known to be a sore loser, and wouldn’t give her up out of consideration for the contract. No, he’d be more likely to try and trap her there with honeyed words, or promises of a brighter future.

As per usual, Wilkes was ready to charge forward without thinking about  _ any _ consequences. He tried to stall, to distract… to no avail.

Then, the phone call came. Harrington, no less.

Devereux had the sinking feeling that the jig was up— at least, to some degree. Harrington would, no doubt, recognize his voice immediately.

Taking the phone, he kept up his charade as best as he could.

“Carlisle Adamson speaking.” Although, he was barely able to get the words out before Harrington began on his tirade.

“Devereux, you sick bastard. You  _ know _ that girl is off-limits. I don’t give a  _ hoot _ if her soul is forfeit— you are not to lay a single hand on her, do you understand me? If I find out you harmed her, in any way, shape or form, I will have your guts for garters!”

While he got his threats out of the way, Devereux gave Wilkes a little wave and a sunny smile, attempting to ease whatever worries she was having… if any. Worrying would require critical thought, which she didn’t seem to be the biggest fan of.

Once he turned his back to her, the smile twisted into an annoyed grimace.

“Harrington, old buddy, old pal.”

“I  _ knew _ that there was funny business going on when she mentioned a Divine Guide. I should have known it was either you or Vabsley— only you two young’uns would even attempt something this cruel.”

“‘Cruel’? I prefer the term ‘opportunistic’,” Devereux smiled, despite his irritation. “If anything, it’s cruel of you to lump me in with Vabsley. I’m much more of a gentleman than that snake.”

“Devereux…” Harrington began, his voice cold and even. “That girl meant everything to Phil. Whatever you have planned, call it quits now. If it’s a soul you want, I’ll reimburse you. I have plenty lying around. But, please… don’t hurt Theodora.”

Poor sap. He always  _ had _ been too fond of humans. He was bound to get hurt, caring as much as he did.

“As I recall, it’s Divine Law for you to mind your own business, now that you’ve had your chance at a deal with her.”

“That’s not—”

“You have my word: I won’t hurt a single hair on her pretty, little head,” he grinned, his eyes glowing. “Move in on my contract, however, and I’ll kill her before you get a word in edgewise.”

“You kill her, and I’ll kill you, Devereux. The Entity will forgive me for it.”

“Then I suppose that’s a risk we’ll both have to take, isn’t it?” Straightening, he set his jaw, and growled, “Goodbye, old-timer.” Harrington’s yelling and cursing exploded from the ear piece before he hung up, but he hardly cared enough to mind.

No, he had bigger fish to fry.

Sending Wilkes on her merry way to deal with (in his opinion) the worst of the creditors, he stuck close to Vabsley’s office, slinking around in the shadows nearby.

Usually, when Wilkes took care of her business, he would go and release some of his influence on random victims nearby. It helped release some tension, and kept him healthy enough to last through the night.

This time, however, he didn’t dare risk wandering off.

To his (pleasant) surprise, the girl actually made it out alive. Of course, Vabsley was watching her every move, sore loser that he was. It was the only time that Devereux had kept himself in direct line of sight of another creditor’s office, and he planned on taking advantage of it.

Looking over his shoulder, he locked eyes with Vabsley— after all, distance made no difference to creditors such as themselves— and gave him an arrogant, triumphant grin. Not at all suiting Carlisle Adamson, but certainly a trademark of Claudius Devereux.

_ Surprise! _

Vabsley couldn’t get his head out of his window fast enough, screaming profanities and cursing Devereux with every breath.

Although he could hear every word of it, he knew it would be too muffled for Wilkes’ ears. There was nothing to worry about. He was in the clear.

Hubris had a funny way of bringing about the worst possible scenario. Another night came, and so, another dream. Devereux worked his magic, as per usual. This time, her dream was entirely realistic, without any fantastical elements to it.

He kept her asleep long enough to give her what she wanted, and give himself what he  _ needed _ . It was going well enough, but then… disaster struck.

Another being entered the dream, looming over the couple with shadowy, dark energy. It was enough to catch Wilkes’ attention, and, by extension, Devereux’s. The silhouette of The Entity blotted out whatever light had been in the dream, her talons reaching for him.

“That’s  _ enough _ , Devereux.”

Plucking him off of Wilkes, she dislocated her jaw, threatening to pierce him with her razor-sharp teeth, her clicking mandibles, her barbed tongue... right before Wilkes!

“Devereux?” she gasped, betrayal flashing across her features. It was only for a brief moment, however, as he ended the dream immediately, waking her up before she discovered anything else.

He made quick work of erasing her memory of the latter half of the dream, but only  _ barely. _ Another ten seconds, and she would have remembered all of the details, erasing all of his hard work.

Why couldn’t Wilkes just  _ submit _ already? Was it so difficult to just  _ give in _ ? What would he have to give in order to get his damn meal?! He wouldn’t dare try to enter her dreams again, not when The Entity had caught on.

He was running out of time. Now, there was only one more creditor standing between him, and his promised contract. If it had been anyone else, he would have felt confident, but it was  _ Cain _ .

He had to work fast.

If he could stall just long enough to get Wilkes’ soul, then there would be nothing to worry about. One more night. That’s all he needed—  _ one more night!  _ She was  _ so close _ to slipping— he almost had her in his grasp!

Regardless of if it was Theo or Claudius, however, nothing could be easy.

First the amulet’s reaction— which, for the record, scorched his hands, and he would be seeking legal action at the earliest convenience. Then, right when he thought he could be rid of that stupid, gaudy thing, Cain’s henchmen swooped in and stole his meal away, right as they pulled into the train station!

It took all of his willpower not to unleash a string of curses, right then and there. Figures. Cain wouldn’t let Devereux have another  _ second _ of Wilkes’ time, not without getting his own fat foot in the door.

Just like that, he watched his meal leave, his stomach twisting itself into knots. The others had been threats, sure, but they were small potatoes compared to Cain. Despite warning her to watch her temper, he had a feeling that it had fallen on deaf ears. Wilkes was a real powder keg of a lady, and Cain was holding a lit match.

It came as little surprise to him when Wilkes fell. No matter how much he braced himself for it, though, it was still a punch to the gut to lose her to that old codger. All of that work, all of that acting… just for her to have her soul taken at the very end.

What had been the point of trying at all?

Cain and Wilkes were long-gone by the time he got there. Waiting outside, in the nearby gutter, was that stupid, gaudy amulet— now, the only evidence that Wilkes had ever existed, at all. Funny, how humans could just disappear, and one could hardly tell the difference.

Ah, but this amulet had powerful negation magic surrounding it. It went to reason, then, that if he could just find Wilkes, and get this amulet on her person… well, it was a slim chance, but worth a shot, all the same.

He didn’t come this far just to lose his chance at the very end. Now, if only he could get to Wilkes before Cain sucked the life out of her.

St. Louis was drowning in Cain’s miasma, and finding the source of it was much like finding a needle in a haystack. It took an  _ embarrassingly _ long time to locate him, and, by extension, his newest assistant.

Sneaking in was easy enough, but Wilkes wasn’t exactly  _ cooperative _ . Cain was in her head, controlling her as his own personal puppet.

“I don’t know you.”

Getting the amulet on the girl was going to be harder than he anticipated, especially considering how much she was squirming. Instead of wrestling with her— which was honestly tempting, after all the trouble she had given him— he was struck by a stroke of genius.

Her dreams! This girl was a sucker for fairy tales and fantastical stories of romance— what better way to bring her back to the corporeal world than to go for the old “True Love’s Kiss” schtick?

Pulling her close, he kissed her, transferring the amulet over her head. As he had been the one to initiate the intimate action, it wasn’t enough to drag her under his influence. But, hopefully, he could make up for lost time later. The threshold had been crossed, at least, and she might be more willing to submit.

Just like that, Wilkes had returned, although her contract was still intact. That was all well and good, of course, but now they had to get  _ out of there _ . He hadn’t expected it to work, and had no better plan than to hoof it out of there.

Obviously,  _ that  _ didn’t work.

“Come down here and show your face, boy!” Cain bellowed.

“No, Carlisle! Don’t!”

Well… that didn’t work out the way he was hoping it would. How embarrassing.

As he was dragged down the stairs by Cain’s henchmen, he knew that he had been found out. There was  _ no way _ Cain  _ wouldn’t _ expose him. Was it even worth pretending? What was worse— Wilkes finding out he was a creditor, or having to pretend he was a Divine Guide in front of his fellow creditor?

Ugh, no contest there. He had his dignity.

Just like that, his plan— which had been going rather well— was blown out of the water. A month of draining, hellish torture… for  _ nothing _ . Wilkes was still under Cain’s contract, and now she would know what he was. The chances of her falling under his influence had gone from nearly-perfect to  _ slim-to-none  _ in a matter of seconds.

It was all Cain’s fault. The bastard. He had lived so long, no one dared to go against him on  _ anything _ ! Devereux had made quite a name for himself in the short time he had been a creditor, but he would always be second-best to Cain.

He had had enough. He didn’t want it to be  _ Cain and Devereux _ anymore. He wanted  _ his _ name to be the one that everyone remembered. He was tired of sharing the spotlight with this beast.

It was high time someone put Cain in his place.

“Poor, little Theo,” he sneered, taking his frustrations out on her, without a doubt. “Couldn’t control your temper, could you? Figures. Now you’re all tied up in a messy contract, and you need your dear, old ‘Divine Guide’ to help you out.”

It was as if he was moving on his own, the momentum of his motivation pushing him forward, more and more.

_ This is what you get for exposing me, old man! _

“Well, for old times’ sake, I’ll oblige. You can rely on Carlisle Adamson  _ one last time _ .”

☽★☾ 

Dark, bulging veins spread from the bullet hole in Cain’s forehead, creating an intricate spiderweb over his discolored, scarred, bloodied face. Theo’s eyes couldn’t leave the corpse of the creditor before her, her hammering heart sending steady thrums of pain through her shoulder.

Her wish had been granted. Cain was destroyed— and certainly not by her  _ own _ hand.

The mobsters’ reptilian eyes bulged from their sockets as they traveled from Cain’s cursed, rotting body, and the arrogant posture of Devereux.

“You—” one gasped, his mouth failing to form words. “You killed him.”

“You killed our boss!”

“You’ll pay for this, Claude!”

“We’ll have your  _ guts _ for this!”

Rising in a shadowy wave around him, they nearly came crashing down, threatening to drown him in their corruption. Devereux’s eyes flashed to them, and in an instant, they drew back, recoiling from him.

“Gentlemen, please. There’s a lady present,” he smirked, twirling the pistol on the tip of his finger. His glowing blue eyes landed on her, his former client, for just an instant. With a flick of his wrist, a cigarette appeared in his hand, already lit. “We can discuss this predicament in a civil manner, can’t we? Seeing as how your employer has met his timely end, I have a proposition for all of you: come work for me.”

“‘Civil’?!”

“You shot ‘im in the head, and you wanna talk  _ ‘civil’ _ ?”

“Allow me to amend that statement, gentlemen: come work for me, or die where you stand.” With an easy-going, debonair smile, he blew out a stream of smoke. The mobsters shifted uncomfortably, their silence weighing on the tense atmosphere. “Take a minute to think about it, gents. I wanna talk to the lady.”

Striding forward, his eyes never moved from hers, holding her captive in his dangerous gaze. However, it was not the same dangerous charm that he had exuded earlier in their relationship— oh, no, he was a different man, now. His eyes held no warmth for her, no affection, not even the slightest hint of admiration. They were cold, unfeeling, and yet, had an arrogant glimmer within their depths.

He stepped through pools of blood, never once batting an eyelash. Even the way he  _ walked _ was different— how could this monster have been her Carlisle?

Her hand itched to reach for him, to enter his embrace, and yet, she barely resisted.

_ The man you knew was nothing more than a lie. _

Was it her own voice, or someone else’s? Was it the voice of reason? Or was it simply a bitter (and yet, still mildly entertained) third party, forced to bear witness to this pathetic display of faux romance?

When he reached her, he kneeled before her, taking another drag of his cigarette, and blowing the smoke to the side.

“I gotta say, Wilkesy,” he chuckled, “for a couple of humans, you and good, ol’ dad sure know how to cause a lot of problems.”

Her world was spinning, falling out from underneath her, and yet, she held on with every last fiber of sense she had left.

Clutching her shoulder, she fought off the tears that built along her waterline, taking shuddering, shallow breaths to stop herself from sobbing in his face, throwing her arms around him, begging for an explanation.

_ Don’t bother. _

“‘Course… it’s  _ because _ you cause so many problems that you’ve given me an opportunity to fulfill a wish I’ve had for a long,  _ long _ time. Cain’s been a real pain in the ass since I’ve taken this job, and now, I don’t have to look at his ugly mug anymore.” With a half-hearted shrug, he took another drag of his cigarette as he muttered, “I should be thanking you, really.”

“Why did you do it?” she asked, her voice bordering on guttural.

“What, you mean kill him? Honey, the bastard had your  _ soul _ , and you’re still gettin’ compassionate over him?” Throwing his head back, he cackled, mocking and derisive. “Oh, Theo, you slay me.”

“Carlisle,  _ please _ !” she cried, using his pseudonym on pure reflex.

“Oh, sweetheart... I got you  _ good _ , didn’t I?”

It was a slap to the face, the cold splash of water that she had needed to come to her senses. Whatever dream she was holding onto, whatever fantasy… that’s all it was.

That’s all it had  _ ever  _ been.

“You’re real sweet, kid, but awfully naive.”

“But…” she whispered, her voice wavering, tears falling down her cheeks. “I loved you.  _ You _ loved  _ me _ .”

This was what it took to wipe that smug grin off of his face. An annoyed frown screwed itself in place, twisting his features as he looked down his nose at her.

“No, honey. I never did. I told you exactly what you wanted to hear, and that was good enough to let your imagination run wild. You’re  _ infatuated _ with me, but that’s all it was. You didn’t know me as Carlisle, and you sure as hell don’t know me as Claudius.”

It couldn’t be. This was wrong. All wrong. This wasn’t a happy ending… it wasn’t  _ her _ happy ending.

She wanted to hold on to hope. She didn’t want all of that pining, all of that yearning to be for  _ nothing _ . He had called it a month of torture— but it had been a month of torture for  _ her _ , too.

Wouldn’t that be a happy ending…? If he had fallen for her while he was with her?

But alas… creditors could not love, and Devereux was no exception. If anything, he was  _ the _ exception.

“I  _ thought _ I loved you…” she whispered. “And that was good enough for me.”

Part of her still  _ did _ love him, unfortunately. Her heart hadn’t fully caught up with the tragedy of what had taken place, and it was still holding on to the love she had for him. It didn’t want to give up, even though logic begged it to.

Devereux sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You always were one for the dramatic, weren’t you?” Standing once more, he flicked his cigarette to the ground, grinding it out with the toe of his shoe. “Listen, sweetheart. I’m not gonna sit here and jaw with you all day on the semantics of  _ romance _ and  _ love _ , so let me put it simply for you: the man you think you fell in love with was nothing more than a lie, a storybook prince for you to throw yourself at. And, if you weren’t such a filthy, goody two-shoes with the virtues of a nun with a vice around her legs, then I would’ve gotten my way, and your soul would belong to me, just like it was always meant to. Capiche?”

With a wince, she shrank away from him, curling in on herself, clutching her stomach. She felt sick. Sickened by him. Sickened by herself. Sickened by the carnage around her.

But most of all, she was sickened by the way he spoke to her. As if she was nothing more than a trophy he would have won.

What’s worse, he was right. That’s exactly what she was to him.

“C’mon, toots, don’t look so down,” he grinned, despite his words. Stepping closer to Cain’s corpse, he checked the barrel of his pistol, and began to reload it, almost methodically. “I just saved you from a very short eternity of being Cain’s assistant. Trust me, he doesn’t know how to treat a lady. It’s a good thing he’s gone.”

The mobsters shivered and shuddered in the shadows of the cellar, hissing, watching Devereux with unblinking eyes.

Pointing the pistol down at the corpse, Devereux pulled the trigger, again and again, firing bullet after bullet into Cain’s dead body. With each gunshot, Theo winced, unable to tear her eyes away from the carnage before her.

Devereux only stopped once his pistol had emptied itself, uselessly clicking between rounds.

“Never enough bullets,” he grumbled. With apathetic precision, he bent down, grabbed Cain’s hand, and slid the ring off of his fat, crooked finger, tossing it to Theo. “Here, sweetheart, you need this, don’t you?”

She barely caught it in her shaking hands.

“Well, Theo? Still want to be together, forever and ever?” he sneered, holding his hand out to her. “C’mon, sweetheart, I can grant that wish for you.”

Hands closing around the ring, she pulled it closer to her heart, curling in on herself. This was a nightmare— the worst possible conclusion to her journey.

And yet…

“You want me to give up,” she said. It wasn’t a question, rather, a confirmation. Slowly, she raised her eyes to his, no longer able to recognize his gaze. How had he managed it? How could he pretend so easily?

“Well, ‘giving up’ has such a negative connotation. Think of it as… helping me. Isn’t that what you had always wanted to do?”

It took far too much of her strength to shake her head, to deny him.

“I won’t give up,” she whispered, her voice shaking as tears formed in her eyes. “I can’t.”

“Not even for me, Miss Wilkes?” he asked, his voice lilting into Carlisle’s usual tenor, his eyes taking on that innocent quality once more. Her throat tightened, cutting off her airways as tears fell from her eyes.

Although she couldn’t speak, she managed to shake her head, her tears falling onto the wooden floor.

Devereux clicked his tongue.

“Then I suppose we’ll go about this the old-fashioned way,” he sighed. “I don’t want you as you are— that would be too easy.” Somehow, his words still managed to wound her. “Take your time to rest. I don’t like having my prizes handed to me, so don’t face me until you’re ready. _ Then _ we’ll have a nice chat.”

She didn’t say anything. She  _ couldn’t _ say anything.

“Well, gents?” he asked, turning to face the shadows. “Who’s not coming to work for me?” The mobsters shifted, their eyes darting around the room, across the floor, and yet, none of them spoke in opposition. Theo couldn’t blame them— she would have been too afraid to speak up, too. “Well, then.”

With a snort, he disappeared in a cloud of smoke, the mobsters following suit, albeit with much more hesitation. Theo was left alone amidst the bodies in the cellar, unable to react. The grooves of Cain’s ring dug into her palm, the mild pain her only connection to the mortal world.

How had it come to this?

Remaining completely motionless, she relived her memories, holding onto every scrap of hope that she could. Rationally, she knew that she should have been angry with Devereux,  _ enraged _ , even… and yet, she couldn’t find the energy to hate him.

Not yet. Not now.

She knew she was capable of hating him, she simply hadn’t caught up to it, yet. In that moment, she wanted to mourn the love she had lost, no matter how fake it had been.

Nothing stirred her from her spot. Not the smell of rot or sulphur, not the stifling humidity that threatened to suffocate her, nor the numbness in her legs, her arms, her core.

Nothing, except for a thick, Chicago accent.

“Miss Wilkes?” a voice called, heavy footsteps descending the stairs to the cellar. “Miss Wilkes, you in here?”

“Charlie…?”

Not just the Head Charles, but all twelve of them emerged in the cellar, grimacing at the gruesome sight before them.

“Miss Wilkes! There you are!” Charlie rushed over, taking her hands in his. From under the brim of his helmet, his glowing blue eyes met hers, oddly comforting. “We got word that you were in a spot of trouble, so we’ve come to escort you out.”

With gentle hands, the Charleses helped her to her feet.

“Shame ‘bout that Devereux tramp. If we’d known, we would’ve intervened much sooner.”

“It’s shameless, what he did to you!”

“Right  _ shameless _ !”

“Impersonatin’ a Divine Guide! The  _ nerve _ !”

“Right, right, gents, let’s not go talkin’ ‘bout ‘im anymore,” Charlie clucked. “No need to go upsettin’ Miss Wilkes any more.”

_ At least they’re on my side, _ she thought, although it sent a bitter twinge through her stomach.

“When was the last time you had a proper meal, ma’am?”

She couldn’t answer, which was more alarming than she would like to admit. She probably hadn’t  _ properly _ eaten since before she met Cain, which was to say…

“A few days ago,” she muttered. “It’s been a rough couple of days.”

“That won’t do, ma’am!” Taking her hands— something that, unfortunately, reminded her of Carlisle— he pulled her to a stop. “Please, let us escort you! We gotta see to it that you’re fed and taken care of!”

“Oh— no, it’s fine, I can manage—”

“That won’t do, ma’am!”

“It’s our job, ma’am!”

“On behalf of the DIA, let us join you!”

… Obviously, there was little room for argument. With gentle hands and brash voices, the Charleses led her out of the cellar, into the hustle and bustle of St. Louis.

It was the 3rd of July. Everyone was already beginning their partying; fireworks went off in the streets, children ran and played, jazz music blared from various clubs around the city.

Had the world always been so loud? Or had she simply never stopped to listen to it?

In a way, it was comforting. She was alive, her soul was intact (at least, as far as she could tell). The soulless void that she had existed in was still a fresh, fearful memory, however, just like a nightmare, she knew she could begin to let go of it.

The Charleses continued their peppy conversation, filling in the gaps of silence, as they walked through the streets. While Theo hardly contributed, she was appreciative of the distraction.

Finally, they ended up at a diner, not too unlike many of the diners that she had seen across the country. When they first walked in, the waitress blanched at the sight of Theo, covered in blood and grime and ichor.

“Honey, are you in trouble—?”

“Table for thirteen, please!” Charlie beamed, catching the waitress by surprise. Finally, she looked away from Theo, seeming to see the Charleses for the first time. Her eyes went wide as she looked at the DIA, before her expression screwed up into a confused grimace.

“Yeah… sure,” she muttered, shaking her head. As she walked away, Theo heard her whisper, “Where’d they come from…?”

After pushing several tables together, the thirteen of them sat, removing their helmets simultaneously, and placing them to their right. The Charleses were a well-oiled machine, she could admit that much.

“Alright…” the waitress started, eyeing the table with no shortage of dismayed confusion. “What can I get you all tonight?”

“A black coffee and the lumberjack special, please!”

“A  _ black  _ coffee and the  _ lumberjack  _ special, please!”

“A black  _ coffee and  _ the lumberjack special, please!”

“ _ A _ black coffee and  _ the  _ lumberjack  _ special _ , please!”

“A black coffee  _ and  _ the  _ lumberjack special _ , please!”

“A black coffee  _ and— _ ”

“And a lumberjack special, yeah, I got it,” the waitress grumbled. “Do you all want that order?”

“Yes, ma’am!” the Charleses chorused.

“Got it.” Her eyes drifted over to Theo, sitting at the head of the table. Quirking an eyebrow at her, she tapped her pencil against her notepad. “And you, honey?”

“A stack of hotcakes, and some orange juice, please.” The waitress wrote down her order, counted the members of the DIA, and went on to bark orders to the chef.

“Twelve lumberjack specials, twelve coffees, a stack of hotcakes, and an orange juice!”

Theo watched the waitress with glazed-over eyes, exhaustion and heartbreak and hollow emotionality creeping over her. So much was happening, all at once, and it was beginning to take its toll on her.

_ Carlisle… _ she thought, wringing her hands together. The memory of his bright smile flashed through her mind’s eye, twisting her empty stomach.

“Miss Wilkes, ma’am,” Charlie piped up, breaking her out of her trance. “I was just wantin’ to say that you’re a real inspiration for the rest of us.”

“What? Me? Why?”

“Ma’am… I don’t know if you realize just how amazin’ you really are,” he explained with a gentle smile. “The Entity was the one to send us on in there, and she told us that you spent a whole month with a creditor,  _ alone _ , and never fell to his influence! That’s nothin’ to scoff at, ma’am!”

“But… he made a fool out of me,” she grumbled. “I thought he was my Divine Guide, and even fell for him. I thought he loved me.”

Her voice broke. Saying it aloud, having to admit she was wrong, was much worse than she was anticipating.

_ I thought he loved me. _ It was such a simple phrase, and yet, was only a cruel reminder. He had played her like a fiddle, and she had handed him the bow.

“... I’m such an idiot,” she whispered, her voice wavering. Burying her head into her hands, she bit her lip in an attempt to stifle her sobs, her whole body convulsing from the effort.

For once— for  _ once _ in her life, she thought someone genuinely loved her. Once again, she had gotten ahead of herself, projecting a fantasy onto reality.

He was right. He had gotten her good. She had practically served it up to him on a silver platter, no less. For what? For sweet smiles, and kind words, and a sense of comfort? Was it so outlandish to see the beginnings of romance in that? He had made her feel safe… welcomed… understood. She felt like she could be herself around him.

How could she applaud herself for not submitting to his creditor influence when she had made a complete fool of herself in the process? Had it been worth it?

Deep down, a despairing part of her brain wished she had just fallen to him, saved herself the trouble of making a fool of herself. It would have been better than falling  _ for _ him, only to feel the pain of rejection once more.

“Ma’am, I won’t allow you to talk about yourself like that,” Charlie said, far more serious than he had ever been. “You’re not an idiot. In fact, you’re one bright lady, y’know that? Not everyone can go toe-to-toe with a creditor, but  _ you’ve  _ done it.”

… She had, hadn’t she?

“That tramp put you in danger. He went plantin’ all these ideas in your head, just to take advantage of you! That’s unforgivable,” he spat.

“If I ever see ‘im, I’ll knock his block off!”

“Yeah, me, too!”

“Me, three!”

“Let me clean his clock!”

The Charleses continued to threaten Devereux, their voices rising and falling in waves of vengeful promises. They pounded their silverware against the table, swearing to avenge Theo’s honor, and to make Devereux pay for how he had humiliated her.

They were noisy, shattering the already-disrupted peace, eventually convincing everyone in the diner to join their cause.

The Charleses shared her story, standing on tables for dramatic effect, using as much hyperbole as they could manage in order to gain the audience’s sympathy. In a way, they fed off of the energy of the partying city, using the good cheer to their advantage.

Once they mentioned that the lovely Miss Wilkes had been scorned, absolutely dishonored by that villain, Devereux, the other customers agreed that that scoundrel had to pay for his misdeeds.

It was the noisiest meal she had ever had— even compared to the company she kept at the theatre— and yet, it was comforting.

“You poor thing!” a slightly-tipsy, middle-aged woman cooed. “You’re too young to go through such heartbreak! Why, it reminds me of my youth—”

“He doesn’t know what he’s missin’!” a man slurred, throwing his arm around Charlie’s shoulder. “She’s pretty as a picture.”

“Go get ‘im, honey,” the waitress scowled. “Don’t let ‘im get away with this.”

The Carlisle she knew might have been gone— though, to be fair, he never properly existed in the first place— but she wasn’t alone.

_ “You are no longer alone.” _

No. She wasn’t.

Would it be easy? Of course not. It hurt— despite the Charleses’ best efforts, being abandoned by her love still hurt— but she was reassured, at the same time. People would take her side, people wouldn’t abandon her…

That was it.  _ People. _ Not the Divine, not the creditors, but  _ people _ would look after her.

Humanity was funny like that. They found purpose in the smallest things, could fixate their motivations on the slightest ideals… but they had the heart to commit to it. Even if it was petty, even if it was miniscule, even if it meant nothing to nobody else at all, they had the decency to commit to it.

Theodora Wilkes, above all else, was a human being. Committing herself to the theatre, to breaking the contracts, to  _ surviving _ … that was what she was made of.

Devereux had been right. She  _ was _ made of sterner stuff.

“Tomorrow,” she muttered, balling her hands into fists. “I’m gonna face him tomorrow.”

“You sure, ma’am?” Charlie blinked. “Maybe you oughta rest up a bit, first.”

“No.” Pushing herself to her feet, she scanned the diner, meeting the eyes of the various patrons within it. They looked at her with respect, with awe… in the same sort of way that she had always imagined people would look at a hero. “First thing tomorrow morning, I’m breaking my contract with Devereux, even if it kills me.”

Charlie gazed at her, bright, blue eyes shimmering as he smiled.

“No need to worry ‘bout that, ma’am. Devereux’s no match for you.”

For the first time since her quest had started, Theo had to book her own room. Her possessions had been left at the train station, kept in a little side room while she had been indisposed.

“Honestly, we thought you weren’t comin’ back,” the staff member had grumbled when he showed her the room.

“Yeah, neither did I,” she muttered, picking up her luggage and leaving without another word.

The Charleses escorted her from the train station to the closest inn, a blockade of stocky, giant men, who were about as intimidating as a herd of golden retrievers. They chattered away, seemingly oblivious to the rambunctious festivities going on around the city.

Finding a room wasn’t too much trouble, thankfully. Just her luck, a room had just opened up that afternoon, giving her a place to stay. After all, she only planned on being there for one more night.

“Gents, keep watch here. I’ll take Miss Wilkes to her room,” Charlie said.

“Yessir!”

Walking alongside Theo, he kept a respectful distance from her, clasping his hands behind his back, and keeping his eyes forward. Although he was quiet, he seemed content, with a slight smile pulling at his lips.

Reaching her door, he waited for her to unlock it before clicking his heels together.

“We’ll keep watch tonight, ma’am. You rest up.”

“Thanks, Charlie. And thanks for the meal, too. You’re alright.”

“Thanks, ma’am!” he beamed. Placing a hand on her shoulder, his smile softened, becoming gentle. “That bein’ said, ma’am… you’re real strong, and I admire that.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, although she wasn’t sure she should have been. There was something in the tone of his voice, something that hinted at words left unsaid. “But…?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“But, uh… how to say this?” he mumbled. “You’re real strong, but you were still hurt, y’know? I wasn’t sure if you were wantin’ to put on a strong front for the other guys, so I told ‘em to scram, but… it’s okay to be hurt by what Mister Devereux did to you.”

His words caught her by surprise, her stomach twisting and churning at the sentiment behind them. What surprised her more, however, was that he caught onto the fact that she had been putting on a brave front.

_ Well, who wouldn’t? _

“I don’t feel proper emotions,” he continued, “so I don’t have a clue ‘bout what you’re goin’ through, truthfully. But I can say this with confidence: don’t force yourself to be okay.”

She didn’t want to be anything but okay, she didn’t want to show that she was hurting, because that meant admitting that Devereux had gotten to her.

It meant admitting that she, to a degree, had lost.

“He hurt you,” Charlie repeated softly. Her lip quivered as he lowered his voice, and said, “You’re allowed to be hurt.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded, her eyes becoming misty.

“... Good night, Charlie.”

“Good night, ma’am.” He saluted her. “And, if you’re feelin’ inclined, it’s alright to cry, ma’am.”

Stepping into her room, she took one last look at his soft, fleeting smile before closing the door. Resting her head against it, she took a deep breath, shut her eyes, and counted to ten.

_ I’m not gonna let him get to me. I’m not gonna let him get to me. I’m not gonna let him get to me. _

Another voice interrupted her mantra; a voice that she had considered to be the voice of reason, although, she wasn’t so sure, anymore.

_ He already has, my dear. Address the pain, so that you may grow from it. _

Sometimes, she really hated the voice of reason.

After getting settled, she took a much-needed bath. It was the perfect opportunity to be left alone with her thoughts— the worst-case scenario, truly.

The relief, the joy, the comfort that she had felt earlier in the evening… all of it vanished under the suffocating weight of isolation, realization, sensibility.

Carlisle had never existed. Carlisle had been Devereux, had led her along, had emotionally manipulated her. She had loved so wholly, only to have it explode in her face, once again.

Sinking into the tub until her nose was submerged, she held her breath, gripping the sides of the tub like a rickety rowboat in a storm. Raising her head enough to take a breath, she gulped in air, then plunged her head under water, and  _ screamed. _

She screamed, raw and guttural and anguished, bubbles exploding from her mouth. When her breath ran out, she raised her head, and repeated it. She did this again and again and again until she was light-headed, her vision spinning and blurring and toppling over itself.

In the silence that followed, the tears came, mixing with lukewarm droplets of bath water that clung to her face. Bringing her knees to her chest, she bowed her head, grinding her teeth together as she took deep, shuddering breaths.

She cried. She sobbed. She wept as pathetically as she could, wringing every ounce of self-pity out of her. She cursed Devereux, Cain, and her rotten, stinking luck. She remained there until the bathwater turned cold, and her skin was covered in wrinkles and goosebumps.

It helped. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was running, and she felt absolutely disgusted with herself, but it helped.

Dressing for bed, she crawled under the covers, still sniffling.

“Tomorrow,” she whispered to herself. “Tomorrow, it’ll all be over.”

_ Tomorrow, _ she thought, closing her eyes,  _ I won’t let him win. _

For the first time in quite a while, Theo fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, no longer plagued by the manipulations of Claudius Devereux.


	10. Claudius Devereux - Part II

The next morning, Theo opened her suitcase, only to be met with the dress that Carlisle/Devereux had gotten for her in Philadelphia. The dress that she had worn when they went out on the town together, the one that she had worn to please him.

Her first instinct was to rip it to shreds— that bastard, she’ll show  _ him _ what she thinks of his “gift”! However, she stopped herself before her claws could dig into the fabric, as an idea began to form in her head.

Why let a perfectly good dress go to waste?

Exchanging her casual daywear for something far too extravagant, she dolled herself up as much as she could, dressing herself to the nines.

She was going to be face-to-face with the nastiest not-quite-ex-lover she had had the misfortune of gaining. She’d be damned before she went in there as anything less than jaw-droppingly gorgeous.

As she did her makeup, her temper churned in her head, driving her to a vengeful fever pitch.

She wouldn’t cry over him. Not today, not ever again.

She’d beat him at his own game, if it was the last thing she would ever do. His ring was the last she needed; perhaps this nightmare would end with him. It certainly  _ started _ with him.

Alas, despite all of her big talking, she wasn’t entirely confident that she wouldn’t flounder in front of him. Sure, she was riding the wave of confidence, but that wave was sure to crash, sooner or later.

The realization gave her pause, which she promptly shook off.

Maybe it would be months before she was properly over him. Maybe she would lie awake at night, thinking about what could have been, or how she could have done things differently, or how obvious the signs were… but she couldn’t think about it in that moment.

At least for that day, while she had to see him, she would pretend to be confident, even if she wavered.

After all, she  _ was _ an actress.

Adding the finishing touches, she packed her luggage, grabbed her things, and slammed her door open, ready to conquer the world. Of course, her dreams of conquering were  _ promptly _ quelled when she ran directly into the broad back of one of the Charleses, who had been standing directly outside her door.

“Oh! Mornin’, ma’am.”

“Charles,” she grumbled, rubbing her nose as delicately as she could, so as to not smudge her makeup. “Have you been standing there all night?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Finally, he turned around. It wasn’t Charlie— he didn’t have the star on his helmet. Picking up her luggage for her, he smiled, his eyes obscured by his helmet. “Orders from the Chief Constable. Nothin’ to report, ma’am.”

“Swell.”

“Are you needin’ your escort now, ma’am?” Theo couldn’t help but feel less than reassured. Something about the Charleses escorting her made it feel more like the blind leading the blind. Regardless, she nodded. “Then, follow me, ma’am!”

As they walked through the inn, she chewed on the inside of her lip. She felt like a million bucks, sure, but  _ some _ validation would be nice.

“Charles.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Don’t you have anything to say about how I look today?”

Coming to an abrupt stop, he tilted his helmet back, just enough for his glowing, blue eyes to be seen in the shadows obscuring his face. Gazing at her for a few moments, he lowered his helmet again, and smiled, completely clueless.

… Well, she certainly understood where Devereux had gotten the inspiration from.

“You look right as rain, ma’am!” he grinned. “Much more rested!”

“No, uh— do you think I look pretty?” she asked, somewhat ashamed that she had to spell it out for him.

“Oh,” he grimaced. “Well, um… ma’am, no offense to you, but you don’t have enough eyes for my likin’.”

To say she was  _ floored  _ was an understatement.

“‘Enough’—?”

“‘Pologies, ma’am. Certain you’re a pretty picture for your fellow humans, though.” With a bright smile, he turned on his heel, and continued on his merry way, as if what he had just said was, by any means, normal.

It made her wonder if it  _ was _ normal. At least, to the Divine.

The others were waiting for her in the lobby— not a very good thing for business, judging by the looks on the other guests’ faces. They gave her sidelong glances, their curiosity clearly written into their features. After all, she was a single woman with a police escort— anyone would be curious.

With the way she was dressed, she realized, they must have thought she was an heiress.

Outside, the Fourth of July parade marched on, the crowded streets buzzing with excitement. Jazz nearly drowned out the sounds of the city, ticker tape confetti thrown this way and that, friends and lovers embracing, laughing, enjoying life to its fullest.

Theo stuck out, far too formal for the Fourth of July. However, with each gaping mouth, each lingering look, each silent  _ wow _ that followed her, her confidence soared.

“Alright, outta the way for the lady!” the Charleses barked, paving a path for her. “Miss Wilkes, comin’ through!”

“Wilkes…?”

“Is she someone important?”

“Who  _ is _ that?”

“Oh— it’s the girl from the diner last night! Remember, the one I was telling you about?”

“ _ That’s _ her?”

As Theo made her way through the city streets, humming along with the tunes from the numerous bands that populated the parade, she found herself smiling, despite her circumstances. She imagined Devereux’s face when he saw her, imagined him begging her for forgiveness, groveling to her as he wept about what a fool he had been.

She knew it was a long-shot (although, certain third party witnesses would prefer the term  _ delusional _ ), and yet, she allowed herself the indulgence. Even if it wouldn’t happen (which, certainly, it wouldn’t), she would at least fluff her own ego before going in.

Robertson, Walker, Dods, Harrington, Vabsley, and Cain… from the grotesque to the horrifying to the violent, each of them had prepared her to meet Devereux, in their own way. She wouldn’t let herself be surprised, no matter what awaited her.

It wouldn’t be easy, but that was okay. Just as he wanted a challenge, so, too, did she. What better way to end to this divine quest than to face the one who led her through it?

About half an hour later, Theo stood before the bordello, surrounded by the DIA. They had gotten far enough away from the main street that the sounds of the parade were distant, and faint, creating an eerie atmosphere around the building.

“Ma’am, we’ll be securin’ the perimeter. You wanna take an escort inside?”

“No,” she said evenly, her eyes never leaving the building. “I want to face him alone.”

“Understood, ma’am!” the Charleses chorused with a click of their heels, no doubt alerting Devereux of their arrival.

_ “WAIT!!” _ a voice shrieked, stopping Theo right as she was about to step inside. A small, bookish man scrambled towards them, a look of complete and utter panic painting his expression into something bordering on comical.

“Adamson!” the Charleses gasped, each in a different cadence.

“Wait—  _ Adamson _ ?” Theo squeaked. “Not—?”

“Miss Wilkes!!” the bookish man cried. “Wait! Please!” Finally, he reached them, doubling over, and wheezing. “Miss Wilkes… please… my sincerest apologies… my… card…”

Once more, Theo was handed a business card that was entirely blank, except for

**CARLISLE ADAMSON**

**DIVINE GUIDE**

“You gotta be  _ joshing  _ me,” she hissed. “ _ You’re _ Carlisle Adamson?”

To say that Devereux had been a far cry from the actual Divine Guide was an  _ understatement. _ Unlike her former “Divine Guide”, this one certainly  _ looked _ like he had come out of Accounting.

The Real Carlisle Adamson was a scrawny, balding little man, with glasses pushed as far up as they could be, and yet, still managed to promptly slip down his nose. As he collected himself, he withdrew his long, gangly limbs, curling in on himself like a turtle.

“That— that  _ fiend _ ! I am so terribly embarrassed, Miss Wilkes. Truly, there is no excuse for my absence. I am only relieved that you are unharmed! Oh, what a failure of a Divine Guide I turned out to be! If only I could have done something more to stop him, I would have—!”

“So, let me get this straight,” she interrupted. “You’re the one who was  _ supposed _ to be my Divine Guide?”

“Yes, Miss Wilkes, and I am  _ so truly apologetic _ that I could not be there to assist you!” the Real Carlisle Adamson whimpered. She couldn’t help but be thoroughly unimpressed by his spinelessness. Maybe she  _ had  _ been better off with Devereux. “Please, allow me to make this up to you! I will attend this meeting with you—”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Miss Wilkes—?”

“I’ve managed this long on my own. I didn’t need a Divine Guide to help me out. I appreciate the gesture, but I’ll pass.”

“You’re  _ denying _ services?” the Real Carlisle Adamson gaped. “With all due respect, Miss Wilkes— that’s  _ suicide _ !”

With a scoff, she stepped closer to the door of the bordello. Closing her hand around the doorknob, she looked back, and smirked.

“I’ve survived this long, haven’t I?”

With that, she pushed the door open, and entered the bordello, closing it behind her. Outside, the Real Carlisle Adamson argued with the DIA over her choice, though he was steadily losing.

Taking a deep breath of stale air, she stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest. It was dim inside, seemingly abandoned. The doors to the darkened, empty rooms hung open.

No assistants waited for her. No patrons gazed at her.

Where  _ was _ everyone?

Wandering the halls, she looked for any signs of life, to no avail. The floors creaked under her feet with each step, while the shadows played through the rooms or against the walls. It was silent, save for the raucous conversation happening outside.

Had the DIA been mistaken about the location?

Right as she thought that, distorted, slow jazz began to blare from a far room, seemingly from the far side of the lobby. It was warped, as if the gramophone was just getting started, and yet, it never reached its proper speed.

As she drew closer, she could hear singing on the record, but it was so garbled and warped, she couldn’t make out what they were saying, or even which song it was. She just knew there  _ was _ a voice— which almost made it worse.

The door swung open, slow and steady, revealing a room illuminated by red light, cigarette smoke drifting out in thick clouds.

Entering the room, she came upon all the missing patrons, thirty pairs of hazy eyes locking on her from every corner in the room. Some of them smirked, seeming amused by the fact that she had shown up, at all. Others sneered, as if condemning her for maintaining her virtue.

Her eyes scanned over the faces of the patrons, pushing down the suffocating anxiety that threatened to creep up and overwhelm her.

The patrons’ bodies undulated and rippled as they crept over one another, skin shining with sweat under the red lights. Hands reached for her, sliding over her arms and legs, nails grazing the skin, sending shivers through her, despite the summer heat.

Those that didn’t crawl towards her moved back to the center of the vortex, the very source of its intoxicating, stifling influence. Lounging back in a chair, with his patrons’ hands sliding over his bare, tattooed chest, was Devereux, his eyes fixed on her.

As soon as their eyes met, her confidence lurched and deflated, leaving her feeling like little more than a child playing dress-up.

_ No, _ she thought,  _ don’t let him get to you. _

Blowing out a stream of smoke, he smiled easily at her, his red, silk robe hanging off of one shoulder. As he held his cigarette, the gem on his ring caught the light. Her eyes were drawn to it, though she couldn’t recall him wearing it before.

“Theo. How nice of you to drop in.”

Did she want to punch his teeth in, or to fall apart and cry at his feet? Did she want both? Neither? Her heart hammered in her chest, yearned for him, yearned for his bright smile, his encouraging words, his gentle touch…

After all, it was so much easier to promise hate than it was to deliver.

How had only a  _ single day _ passed?

“Happy Fourth of July, sweetheart.” The patrons draped themselves over him, resting their heads on his shoulders, his knees, pressing kisses to his hands, his cheeks, his neck. The sight of their limbs encasing him in a flesh prison was enough to make her feel sick. “Don’t mind them. They’re just helping me make up for wasted time. Seducing you was such a  _ chore,  _ I still haven’t recovered.”

_ “A month of torture,” _ he had said. Well, how  _ nice _ that he was able to rejuvenate himself! Grinding her teeth together, she glared at him, the bile in her empty stomach churning.

She had to face him. She  _ had _ to. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her posture, raising her chin, standing as confidently as she could manage. This feat was particularly difficult, considering how belittled she felt under the scrutinizing glare of his patrons.

_ Hate him. It’s easier to hate him than it is to forget him. _

“You wasted  _ my _ time, too,” she managed, her voice not quite as sharp as she was hoping it would be. “So let’s get this over with.”

Crossing one leg over the other, he smiled, though she hesitated to call it that.  _ Bared his fangs _ was probably a bit more accurate.

“Then take a seat.”

As she prepared to sit down, the chair moved forward of its own accord, forcing her down. It continued to rush forward until she collided with the card table before her, her ribs digging into its edge.

With a weak cough, she doubled over the table’s surface, correcting herself as smoothly as she could. A ghostly appendage brushed her neck in a gentle, slitting motion, sending a shudder through her.

Somehow, it was reminiscent of a time she had met an overly-friendly cat in the alley outside of the theatre. It rubbed against her as she sat with it, purring, its tail brushing against her chin as it trotted past.

Only this was much,  _ much _ more unpleasant.

“Generally, by rule of thumb, we try not to use our powers too flagrantly in front of our mortal clientele,” he explained, taking a drag from his cigarette. “But I’m tired of being casual, and I’m tired of pretending.” Grabbing her by the chin, he tilted her face up until she met his gaze, his eyes sparkling with condescending triumph. “You’re in the presence of the most powerful creditor now, babycakes.”

Theo swat his hand away, recoiling from his touch. A wave of pain washed over her shoulder, which was still sore from the day prior, causing her to inhale sharply through her teeth. Her temper was beginning to build itself into a frenzy, throwing her into the momentum of its storm.

_ He  _ was tired of pretending? Well, so was she. In a small way, that was a consolation.

“You’re the most powerful?” she asked, feigning innocence, though it was difficult not to grit her teeth.

“You heard me. I’m King of the Wor—”

“Funny, then, that you couldn’t seduce  _ one woman _ in the span of a month.” Devereux’s smirk slipped from his face, leaving an ugly snarl in its wake. The very sight of it fed her feverish temper, throwing her further and further into its storm. “Doesn’t seem all that impressive to me.”

“You’re talking  _ real big _ for a woman who was ready to throw herself into my arms. Even with The Entity helping you, I  _ almost _ had you.”

Her knee-jerk reaction was to spit back, “Don’t blame  _ your  _ shortcomings on The Entity. It’s embarrassing.”

“Honey, I had you  _ begging _ ! You were swearing your love to me, left and right. You wanna talk  _ embarrassing _ , that was it!” It was a slap to the face, enough to stop her in her tracks, and to give him time to collect himself. With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look at what you did.”

The patrons began to coo over him, rubbing his shoulders, caressing him, whispering sweet nothings as a hive mind. Hazy eyes looked upon him with cloudy adoration, while they shot her nasty glares for even  _ daring _ to speak against him.

“I didn’t ask you to do this,” Theo grumbled, lowering her gaze, her ego stinging. Before she could stop them, the words fell out of her mouth in a pathetic whimper, “I just wanted to be loved.”

The conversation lulled, the gaps filled by the distorted jazz that continued to play from the gramophone. Shooing away his patrons, who drew away from him with no shortage of whining, he leaned forward, and took Theo’s hand in his own.

Her heart jumped into her throat at the contact. What had once been so warm, so welcome, was nothing more than a sour memory.

And yet, she found herself unable to pull away. She wanted it. She wanted him, even despite what he had done. After all, when one had spent so much time yearning for the touch of another, it was no small feat to turn them away.

“Theo,” he said, his voice warm and inviting and everything it had always been. In that moment, he was Carlisle again. And yet, he wasn’t mocking her. His eyes rested on her face, staring at her so earnestly that she felt her heart twist and curl and reach for him, for what could have been, for what she had  _ wanted _ . “Theo… what if I could give you what you wanted?”

As her name fell from his lips, spoken so softly that she felt it was only for her ears, she was reminded of the intimate moments the two of them had shared, the unsure confessions, the sweet promises…

How much of Carlisle had been the sweeter side of Devereux? Surely, he couldn’t have faked  _ everything _ ? There must have been aspects of those moments, no matter how miniscule, that had been genuine.

… Right?

“How could you give me what I want?” she whispered, her voice threatening to break if she spoke any louder. “You’re a creditor… and creditors can’t love.”

“But, honey…” With a small smile, he brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, tucking a strand of her hair back into place. “You’ve met Harrington. You met his wife, right? He can’t love her in the same way a human could, but…” he paused, his smile faltering, almost unsure. “He’s doing the best he can. I could do that for you.”

His eyes held her in place, the smoke in the room slowly swirling around them, creating a surreal serenity within her. It was the same serenity that marked the dreams he inhabited; the dreams that, due to unforeseen and horrendously unfortunate circumstances, could never be fulfilled.

“You remember what we talked about? Being together, no matter what?” he asked, his voice washing over her, smooth and warm and comforting. “We could still have that, Theo.”

_ We could? _

Despite knowing  _ full well _ that this was completely outside the realm of possibility, it was enough of a lure that it hooked her, planting the seeds of fantasy in her mind. The world seemed to melt away, the blank faces of the patrons drooping and melting in a runny, watercolor mess.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, honey, you just have to trust me.”

His eyes held hers, drawing her in, his words echoing in the space around them. The cigarette smoke, which had been nearly suffocating her, seemed to fade away, the jazz blending into sounds of rainfall.

She blinked, and suddenly, they were outside. No patrons, no bystanders, just her and—

“Miss Wilkes?” Carlisle asked, with a gentle smile. Taking her hand, he laced their fingers together, far too gentle of a gesture for Devereux.

“Carlisle…?” she breathed, tears flooding her vision. “No— that’s—”

“Whatever is wrong, Miss Wilkes?”

“I— I don’t know.” Her head was swimming with far-off memories of nightmarish revelations, blood and gore and violence and it didn’t make sense, none of it made sense— “What—? Where am I?”

With concern written into his expression, his fingers brushed her cheek, wiping away stray tears.

“We are in Philadelphia,” he murmured. His voice soothed her, brought her down to earth, back to the moment. “Are you feeling unwell, Miss Wilkes?”

“I—” she gulped, struggling to swallow the lump in her throat. “I don’t know. I don’t— I don’t remember how I got here, and—? I thought we were in St. Louis…?”

The tears continued to fall as she floundered in her confusion. Had it all just been a bad dream? Then why was she waking up now? Why did it feel like she wasn’t fully awake?

She didn’t understand. She  _ couldn’t _ understand. Was  _ this _ the dream world, and the nightmare that she remembered was only a bad memory? Or…?

Looking out at the rain, she felt a tug at the back of her mind. She remembered this… an alarming sense of deja vu tugged at her, screamed at her,  _ begged _ her to wake up.

Hadn’t it happened once, in a dream? Why couldn’t she remember the details of it all?

“Perhaps you became somewhat light-headed?” he asked, pressing a hand to her forehead, his brows furrowed together. “I assure you, Miss Wilkes, everything is as it should be. You are safe here. You need not worry.”

He held her hands, but somehow, it was a little too tight, a little too forceful, a little too coercive. Had Carlisle always been so unnerving? Had his smile always been so fake? So forced?

“This isn’t right…” she whispered, only loud enough for herself to hear. Wild eyes glanced around the empty street, squinting through the rain for any hint, any break in reality.

“Theo?”

She froze. Raising her eyes to his, she was met with glowing, blue eyes. They searched her mind, her memories, her dreams… her very  _ soul _ . They were wrong. They were  _ wrong _ .

“What did you call me?”

“... Theo?”

It was wrong. It was wrong. It was  _ wrong!! _

She had already lived this. She had already suffered through this—  _ twice _ ! Once had been a dream, she knew that for certain, and the other… It just didn’t make sense.

“Let go of me.” Yanking her hands out of his grip, she backed away from him, out of the alcove and into the rain. With an innocent sort of confusion, he approached her, but the rain hardly affected him.

“You remember this, don’t you, sweetheart?” he asked, approaching her, a suave smile pulling at his lips. “We nearly had our first kiss here. I thought you’d enjoy reliving it.”

“Not like this! Not with  _ you _ !”

Inhaling through his teeth, he pressed a hand to his heart. “Theo, you wound me.” Sighing, he waved his hand with little fanfare. “Well, let’s give this another shot.”

The ground shook, giving way from underneath her, opening up and swallowing her whole. Letting out a scream, she reached up, her hands finding nothing but air. As she fell, a harsh, male voice resonated through her mind.

_ “Your soul’s mine.” _

_ Cain? _

Squeezing her eyes shut, she simultaneously struggled to remember and shoved the memories away. It was painful, frightening, a sensation that she never wanted to remember again, for as long as she lived… but it was also a warning.

She  _ had _ to keep her head.

When she opened her eyes again, blindingly bright lights shone down on her. Shielding her eyes, she shied away from them. However, thousands upon thousands of eyes bore upon her, their judgmental glares sending shivers through her.

Beyond the lights, it was only darkness. A giant, abyssal maw, its jaws waiting to snap shut, and slice her in two, dappled with eyes shining like diamonds. An audience of blank, staring eyes watched her every movement.

Was she on the stage? It was painfully, awkwardly silent— the tell-tale sign of a missed cue— only broken by the uneven sounds of the “audience” breathing, heavy, and wheezing. Were they reaching for her, or was it just the shadows playing tricks on her?

Stepping back, her foot fell through the rotting stage. With a scream, she sank down to her thigh, splintering wood ripping and tearing her elaborate ballgown, scraping her skin.

Before she could right herself, strong hands closed under her armpits, pulling her out of the hole. Blood dripped down her leg, pooling in the sole of her shoe.

“Are you hurt, miss?”

“Ugh, I’m fine—” she grumbled, facing her savior. A dark-haired, blue-eyed prince had caught her, and was helping her back to her feet. If it wasn’t for the sickening lurch in her stomach, she would have swooned.

Somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. She didn’t know what, but she knew  _ something _ was.

And yet, with features that divine, and a smile that innocent, how could  _ anything _ be wrong?

As he checked her over for injuries, her reservations loosened their grip on her mind, allowing her a moment to relax. It must have been momentary panic… that’s all.

The longer she stood there, being fretted over in front of a live audience (and yet, not caring, even in the slightest), the more she realized… there were some  _ large _ gaps in her memory.

Who was she?  _ Where _ was she? Who was this man before her? Why had her first reaction been disgusted panic? Surely, that must have meant  _ something _ , so why couldn’t she remember? Why was her head swimming so much?

“Miss, your complexion—! Oh, goodness, perhaps you should take a rest,” he fretted, wrapping an arm around her waist, and leading her offstage. The eyes followed her every movement, tense silence marking their presence. She stumbled, the room spinning, but he caught her. “Oh, dear. This is worse than I thought. Please, pardon me.”

Much like a bride, he hoisted her into his arms. For some odd reason, her first reaction was to recoil, but, against her better judgment, she ignored it.

“Who are you?”

“Oh, dear… you really are feeling quite unwell, aren’t you, Theo?” he tutted. Was her name Theo? She couldn’t recall. Why did it sound so wrong coming from his lips? “I am your betrothed. Surely, you must remember me?”

She  _ did _ , but the mere mention of betrothal made her skin crawl.

“I have a feeling I know the cause of this,” he sighed, opening the door to a private room.

When they crossed the threshold, she, once again, had the instinct to grab the door frame, to stop them from entering together, to scream for help, to prevent them from being alone together, no matter  _ what  _ it took.

Once again, she ignored such an instinct.

“My darling, that amulet you wear… I am afraid its healing properties have begun to overwhelm you once again,” he explained, setting her on the bench in front of a vanity. Leaning over her shoulder, he took her hands in his, his reflected gaze holding her in place. “I know you treasure it, but perhaps you should take it off for tonight. Allow yourself some rest, hm?”

It… made sense. Perhaps the knot in her stomach was from attachment? Sentimentality? Some sort of placebo effect?

But if he knew her so well, then he must have dealt with this before.

“Just take it…” he gently urged, guiding her hands to her amulet that lay against her chest, heavy as the weight of a soul. Closing her hands around it, he began to guide her arm over her head, inch by inch by inch…

**_MISS WILKES!_ **

The voice in her head was sharp, piercing, throwing all of her senses into overload. Dropping the amulet, she curled in on herself, cradling her head, the ringing in her ears drowning out the voice of her fiancé.

His hands closed around her shoulders, too forceful, too strong, too impatient. With the ringing in her ears, the stars in her vision, the acrid smell of cigarette smoke, the taste of blood in her mouth, and the all-consuming fear that she was not alone in her head, she cried out, clapping her hands over her ears.

“Don’t run from me, honey.”

Wide, frantic eyes searched for him, only for him to grab her by the chin, forcing her gaze forward. Her reflection in the vanity mirror stared back at her, although Theo was  _ sure _ that that wasn’t her. It couldn’t be— she looked too happy, too content, and she  _ knew  _ they didn’t share the same expression.

Her fiancé leaned close, a venomous smile pulling at his lips as they grazed her ear. His previous demeanor had vanished, replaced by an oddly-familiar arrogance.

“You belong to me,” he whispered. The slimy words crawled into her ears like worms, wriggling through her head, into her brain. “Stop running, Theo. You know you want this.”

“No—”

Writhing against him, she scrambled to her feet, desperate to make distance between them. However, he held onto her, his vice grip never loosening, even for a moment. The stool clattered to the floor, nearly tripping her.

“Let  _ go  _ of me—!”

Her fiancé wrestled her to the ground, a few strands of hair coming loose from their perfectly coifed style, sticking to his forehead. His crown toppled from his head, swatted away in the struggle, rolling towards the door.

Slamming his knee into her torso, he knocked the air out of her as he tried to close a hand around her throat. Throwing her arm up, she was able to save herself, but she knew she wouldn’t last much longer.

“Stop fighting me, Theo!”

“Never!”

“You stupid bitch,” he growled, digging his nails into her arm as he reached for her. His eyes flashed bright blue as he drew closer, his rancid breath polluting the air around them. “Your soul is  _ mine _ !”

Kicking up as hard as she could, she landed a solid hit to his stomach. It wasn’t enough to incapacitate him, but it gave her enough of an opening to scramble to her feet. Making a mad dash for the door, she threw it open, catching herself before she lurched into the abyss.

The rest of the building was gone. It was only this room, suspended in a floating, pitch-black emptiness.

From the abyss, thousands of eyes zeroed in on her as she clung onto the door frame. Theo stumbled back, right into the arms of her enemy. He spun her around, keeping a tight grip on her arms.

“The Wilkes’ souls were  _ always _ meant to be mine, do you understand?” With a violent shake, he threw her towards the bed. She fell into the sheets, unable to right herself before he closed in on her, pinning her down. “It’s all  _ your _ fault, Theo. All of this whole damn mess is  _ your fault _ !”

His shadow fell over her, reaching for her, threatening to squeeze the life out of her. Rearing back, she summoned whatever remained of her strength, and shoved him away, panic gripping her nerves.

“Get  _ away _ from me, Devereux!” she screeched, shattering the dream world.

The world rocked, bouncing between the private room and some sort of parlor, filled to the brim with swelling, discolored corpses— or perhaps, people that were on the brink of death? She couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing.

Her head pounded, her vision struggling under the immense amount of pressure that pulsed through the room, directly from  _ him _ . Warm liquid dripped from her nose, and it wasn’t until she wiped at it that she realized her nose was bleeding.

_ Why do I feel like I’m dying? _

It was an alarming thought, but the first one that formed in her swampy mind. What was more alarming, though, was the  _ response _ .

_ Because, Miss Wilkes, that is exactly what is happening. Do watch your step, will you? _

The distorted jazz that floated through the parlor was her only landmark for reality. Blinking her eyes, she shook her head, forcing herself to return to her senses. Invisible bugs crawled over her skin, inside her ears, worming their way into her mind, buzzing and chirping and screeching, drowning out every possible thought she could have.

“That’s  _ enough!! _ ” she screamed, scrambling to her feet. Falling forward, her hands slammed against the table, barely supporting her weight. “Get out of my head.” Grinding her teeth together, she took deep, shuddering breaths as she raised her head. “You coward. Are you really so afraid of losing to me that you have to sink so low?”

“ _ Afraid _ ?” he scoffed, ripping himself from his throne of patrons. Standing, he leaned forward, coming far too close to her. His influence crawled over her skin—  _ the bugs _ — sending shivers down her spine. “Sweetheart, I’m not afraid of anything, much less losing to a scrawny, little girl like you.”

Despite her vision being so fuzzy, she searched his eyes with the same intensity as he searched hers. Her arms shook under the weight of her body, threatening to send her tumbling forward. Perhaps out of courage, or perhaps out of pride, she kept herself upright.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, smiling through her light-headedness. “You’ve been there since day one. If you were feeling so confident, then why put yourself through a…” she trailed off, tapping her bloody chin with her finger. “How did you put it? That’s right! A ‘month of torture’.”

Devereux said nothing, but at least he wasn’t smiling.

“You know you’re not going to win, don’t you?” she asked, lowering her voice into a whisper. “That’s why you’re trying to kill me. Because if you can’t have my soul, you’ll make sure  _ no one _ can.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the patrons crawling towards her on all fours, their arms and legs bent at unnatural angles, sticking out of the joints. She didn’t dare to tear her eyes from Devereux, not when the patrons came closer, not when their nails grazed her legs, not when they tried to force her down.

“You can’t kill me yet, Devereux. Not until I have my chance at breaking the contract.” A patron grabbed at her arm, but she wrenched it free, swinging it forward to grab Devereux by the collar. “Now, we’re gonna play your stupid game, I’m gonna get your ring, and I’m gonna walk out of here alive, and there’s  _ nothing _ you can do to stop me.”

“Oh, but honey, that’s where you’re wrong,” he smirked. “You can barely stand. How do you expect to beat me?”

“Start the damn game, coward,” she growled, “and you’ll see how.” Another patron grabbed her thigh, their fingers grazing her slip. “Hands off!” she hissed. Drawing her fist back, her rage threw her into the proper momentum to land a catastrophic punch to the poor fool’s swollen, blue nose. Blood spurted, splattering her clothes, but it hardly mattered to her. “Get your patrons off me. This game’s between you and me only.”

For a moment, she wasn’t sure if he’d comply. Giving her a cold look, his eyes eventually traveled to the patrons crawling around on the floor. With a sharp nod of his head, he gave the silent order, and their grips on her loosened.

Finally, she looked at the creatures surrounding her, bile rising in her throat. Their limbs jutted out of the joints, swollen and discolored, their faces pallid, pudgy, bloated. Their exposed skin was pulled tight over their bodies, threatening to snap apart at the seams. Under the stench of cigarette smoke, she swore she could smell the beginnings of rot— a smell that, unfortunately, she had become far too acquainted with.

Scuttling to the corners of the room, and up the walls, to the ceiling, their heads twisted 180 degrees, their foggy eyes ogling her. Every square inch of the walls and ceiling were covered by the patrons, all eyes focusing on her.

With a snap of Devereux’s fingers, the card table before them began to undulate and warp, dark purple smoke rising from it in deep clouds. Theo stepped back, watching as it grew and transformed into a full-size billiards table.

Dark burgundy felt lined the onyx table, which was adorned with skulls and hellish facades depicting human suffering. Half-rotten corpses crushed under boulders, winged beasts devouring their innards, flames and eyes and insects and snakes… and that was just the side that Theo could see.

A pool cue appeared in Devereux’s hands, which he promptly threw to her. Tapping the table, the billiards balls emerged from the gaping, skeletal maws that covered each pocket, gathering at the center in a perfect pyramid formation. They moved on their own accord, which certainly didn’t bode well for her.

The cue ball rolled out last, though it was unlike any cue ball she had ever seen. As it rolled towards her, it revealed itself to be an eyeball, its gaze wildly flicking around the room.

“Gentlemen?” he called. Within an instant, the mobsters appeared in dark clouds of smoke. Rolling chalk along the end of his cue, Devereux smiled easily. “Make sure Miss Wilkes doesn’t get any cute ideas, will you? I’d hate to see her sink to cheating.”

_ You’re one to talk, _ she thought, sharing the sentiment with the voice of reason.

The mobsters… “agreed”, at least, on the surface. Anyone with eyes could see that they weren’t exactly enthusiastic about following orders from the beast that killed their last boss. Several of them rolled their eyes— quite a feat, considering they barely had pupils, half the time— while others cursed under their breath.

Gesturing to the cue eyeball before her, Devereux gave her a suave smile. It was one that she, unfortunately, recognized from her dreams.

“Ladies first. Stripes or solids?”

_ Nuts.  _ “... Stripes.” Sure, why not?

She had only played billiards a few times in her life. As much as she wanted to have faith in her luck, it had betrayed her at Cain’s, and her ego had yet to recover. Did she think she could win? Perhaps, if she had a spare miracle lying around.

Well, here was hoping that she had just one left.

Leaning over the table, she made the mistake of making eye contact with the cue ball. Its pupil dilated as it looked at her, focusing on her, and  _ only _ her. It was enough to unnerve her, but she didn’t have a choice.

“Sorry…” she whispered before striking the ball with the cue.

It squeaked in pain as it rolled away, colliding with the other balls, and breaking them out of their formation. It wasn’t an impressive opening shot, and, considering how the other creditors played  _ their _ games, she was sure it would be her doom.

Devereux moved into position, making far too much of a show of leaning over the table, his disheveled silk robe slipping even further off his shoulders. Theo watched him intently, though not for the usual, ogling reasons.

The “dreams” that he had just put her through were still fresh wounds on her psyche. Besides the nightmarish aspects of them, however, one thing stood out to her.

“You said that this was all my fault,” she started. Her body was slowly regaining its strenth, and she could only hope that it would  _ stay _ this time around. “What did you mean by that?”

“Oh, lots of things are your fault, Theo.”

Sliding the cue in and out of the space between his fingers, her stomach churned its acids into butter. Somehow, now that she knew who he was— and what his vice seemed to be— the movement seemed far more crass than it needed to be.

“If you hadn’t rushed out to check on dear, ol’ dad after he offed himself, then I could have collected his soul, as planned. If you hadn’t been given this fool’s errand by The Entity, then I wouldn’t have had to waste my time, involve the DIA, Cain’s henchmen, and every damn employee of the Divine Offices.

“But you know what the  _ real _ problem is, Theo? You were  _ born _ . Your existence is quite truly your most disastrous fault, as I have never seen a bigger waste of humanity as I have in you.” Striking the cue ball with a thunderous  _ clack _ , he sent the balls flying towards the pockets. As they rolled across the table, his lips curled into a venomous smile. “Course, if you weren’t born, Wilkes wouldn’t’ve made the contracts to begin with. He’d still be alive, he’d have his soul, and, hey, at least he’d be happy.”

The balls rolled towards the pockets, beelining for them. At the last moment, though, they slowed, and came to a standstill before falling in. Devereux clicked his tongue, but didn’t comment further.

“Don’t talk about him as if you know him,” she growled.

What hurt more? His words, or the fact that he was probably right? He had a point, as much as she hated to admit it.

And yet, something stuck out to her.

“What do you mean ‘as planned’?” she asked, her voice thick with suspicion. Moving into position, she drew imaginary lines from the cue ball to the striped balls, measuring the trajectory. “You mean to say you were there that night?”

Leaning over the table, she prepared her shot.

“Well, yeah. I was the one who told Wilkesy to kill himself.”

With a violent flinch, she nearly dropped the cue, grazing the cue ball as it slipped out of her hands. The cue ball spun uselessly, going nowhere. Alas, that marked the end of her turn.

“Of  _ course _ I’d be there to collect what was mine.”

Theo couldn’t move, her eyes wide as she stared at the spinning eyeball before her. Her hands shook, her heart plummeted to her feet, the blood drained from her face.

“You…?” she breathed, guttural, animalistic. “ _ You _ told him…?”

“Yeah?” he asked. Her eyes flew to his face, and the bastard was  _ smiling _ . His eyes glittered with amusement as he looked down at her. “What about it?”

The cue fell from her hand as her body moved on its own. She lunged forward, climbing atop the billiards table, reaching for his throat, unable to control her mind, her body. All she knew was that he was the reason her father was dead, he was the reason she had been sent on this quest, he was the reason— he had  _ always been _ the reason!

“I’ll kill you—!” she screamed, her voice breaking into an enraged sob. Before she could wring his neck, hands closed around her arms, her wrists, her neck, her waist, pulling her away from him. They pulled her up and up, until she was spread eagle against the wriggling, writhing, fleshy ceiling.

Thrashing in their grip, she lunged to the right, lashing out at the one who held her wrist. The patrons’ heady breaths oozed over her ears, their lecherous laughter hissing out around her. Devereux smiled up at her, triumphant and arrogant.

“Theo, Theo, Theo,” he sighed, clicking his tongue. “Really, now. It’s behavior like that that made you such easy prey for Cain in the first place.”

Opening her mouth to spit insults at him— or even just spit in general— she was quickly silenced. A patron’s bony hand clapped over her mouth, their elongated, disfigured fingers entering, pressing down on her tongue.

They tasted of rot. She gagged, dry heaved, and yet, they didn’t remove their fingers. With watery eyes, she bit down as hard as she could. With an inhuman hiss, they withdrew. Slamming her head back, she collided with another bony patron, giving her enough of a window to finally wriggle free.

One by one, they released their holds on her, until she could finally drop to the floor. She was still righting herself when Devereux took his shot, the cue ball colliding with four other balls in an oddly-perfect pattern.

He sank two of them. Snapping his fingers, a mobster on the side of the room released a quiet sigh, and slid two of the chips along the scoreboard.

Theo watched him, taking measured breaths, smothering her rage as much as she could manage. She wouldn’t achieve anything by lashing out at him again; she couldn’t let him continue to push her buttons.

As he moved to take his next shot, she closed her hand around the amulet, using its gentle warmth to center herself.

_ Please, let me get through this. _

_ Oh, trust me, Miss Wilkes. I wish this would end just as much as you do. _

Hitting the cue ball, it collided with the others, sending them on a straight trajectory to the pockets. Her heart seized in her chest as she watched them roll, but at the last moment, they curved, hitting the edge of the pocket instead.

“What—?” Devereux hissed. His eyes flashed from the ball to Theo, a frown pulling his expression down. “I see The Entity is still favoring you.”

_ Compared to Mister Devereux, yes. _

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Theo grumbled, taking her position. Lining up the balls as best as she could, she took her shot. By some miracle, the cue ball collided in  _ just _ the perfect way to send four of her striped balls barreling towards the pockets, sinking without issue.

A few mobsters broke into snickers at the sight of it, although they were quickly silenced by a nasty glare from Devereux. The same one that was in charge of the score slid four points in favor of Theo.

She was in the lead. Only three left, and then, the eight ball. Could she manage it?

Falling into silence, the two of them played, watched by the patrons, the mobsters, and, of course, The Entity, though she refrained from entering the room. Her patience could only last for so long, after all.

One by one, they took their turns, sinking and missing and sinking again. The only sounds in the parlor were the clattering of the billiards balls, the weak squeaking of the cue ball, the warped jazz record, and the patrons’ heavy, hungry breathing.

Finally, all that remained was the eight ball, fair game to both of them. They were completely tied, and this next shot would be the deciding factor. She wouldn’t lose to him traditionally, but if he sank that ball before her, that would be it.

Her soul would be his, for all of eternity.

What was worse, it was his shot to make. With his luck, and his skill, he’d sink it, no problem. Judging by the look on his face, he knew it, too. Leaning over, he readied his shot.

“Well, Theo, it was a good game,” he started, his eyes flashing to her with a triumphant glimmer, “but not good enough.”

“It’s not over yet.” Despite her brave words, her eyes never moved from the eight ball. It was a bluff, at best, and it showed. The cue shook in her hands, her knuckles white from the strain.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll treat you better than Cain ever could. I can only imagine what he asked of you.” With, quite possibly, the smarmiest smile she had ever seen, he shot her a wink. “My requests are  _ much _ more fun.”

She knew that she wouldn’t have a choice, if she was under his employ, but she still silently wished that she would be able to fight back against his wishes. Fulfilling  _ his _ wishes wasn’t something she ever wanted to do.

As he prepared his shot, she swallowed hard. Taking a breath, she pieced together her wish in her head, thinking it would be her last.

_ Whatever has been helping me, _ she thought, squeezing the cue stick even harder,  _ please, I’m begging you… make him miss. _

Devereux hit the cue ball. Theo held her breath, hesitant to show  _ any _ sign of life before this monster. The cue ball hit the eight ball, which rolled, and rolled, and rolled… heading directly for the pocket.

As much as she wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, she refused. If this would be her end, she wouldn’t turn away from it. She’d go out with her head held high, and she’d  _ never _ show a sign of weakness before him again.

_ Who am I to deny such a polite request, Miss Wilkes? _

At the last possible second, the eight ball changed its course, striking the edge of the pocket’s skull cover with a pathetic  _ clack _ . When it came to a stop, it was perfectly aligned with the cue ball, creating the perfect shot for her.

“No…” Devereux gasped, almost inaudible. “That’s impossible.”

Taking a deep breath, Theo silently moved around the table, standing far too close to Devereux for her liking. Right as she lined up to take her shot, his hand closed around her wrist.

Yanking her wrist back with such force that he flipped her onto her back, her shoulder screaming in pain. He leaned over her, pinning her against the billiards table. One hand landed next to her head, supporting himself, while the other clung to her wrist, his hot breaths brushing her lips.

“You’re cheating,” he panted, a few strands of his hair brushing her forehead. Behind him, the patrons’ blank, black eyes bulged out of their heads as they watched, silent, waiting. “Hey, look at me.” Her eyes met his as he outlined the shape of her lower lip with his fingertip, her heart switching between sinking and soaring. “Don’t do that to me, honey.”

“I didn’t do it,” she murmured, suddenly meek.  _ Don’t let him get to you! Fight! Get back at him! _ “I’m not cheating.”

With a click of his tongue, he leaned back, wrapping his arms around her waist, and hoisting her up, forcing her to sit upright. Sitting on the edge of the table, she was trapped in his embrace as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“Yes, you are. That was a perfect shot, so how’d it get messed up, huh?” he said, his voice low, bordering on sultry. “You want me to lose, Theo?”

Her mouth fought between  _ no _ and  _ yes _ , between the words he planted in her mind, and her own, independent thoughts. Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a deep breath, collecting the thoughts that belonged to her.

“About as much as  _ you _ want  _ me _ to lose.” Clapping her hand over his mouth, she pushed him back. “Let me take my shot.”

Hopping off the table, she wasn’t even able to grab her cue stick before his arms enveloped her from behind, snaking around her waist, and yanking her away from the table.

“Now, now, honey—” Pulling her close, he turned her, and lifted her up, supporting her by the thighs. It was a scene that she remembered far too vividly— from her last dream of him. Wrapping her legs around his torso, she held onto him, not too enthusiastic about the alternative. As much as she hated him, she’d rather hold on than fall on her posterior in front of him. “You remember this, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do…” she mumbled, linking her arms behind his neck. There was only one shot left to make, and she’d have to  _ royally _ mess it up in order to miss. But when she even tried to  _ look _ at the table, Devereux guided her eyes back to him.

He wasn’t going to let her take the shot.

“I know we’ve had our disagreements, Theo, but… y’know, I  _ did _ enjoy our time together,” he admitted. Only a fool would have been charmed by his words, and, despite his opinions of her, Theodora Wilkes was no fool.

She was, however, an actress. One of the best off-Broadway.

“... You did?” she asked, her voice wavering.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he smiled, dipping back into his Carlisle-like mannerisms. “I did. You’ve charmed the charmer, what can I say?”

Leaning in closer, she gave him a shy smile as their noses brushed together.

“Oh, Claudius… do you mind if I call you Claudius?”

“Go ahead.” Out of her periphery, she could see his smile growing wider. The mental image of it sent a shiver through her. For the first time that day, she didn’t fight it, and allowed the shiver to take its course. Devereux laughed. “Nervous?”

“A little,” she whispered. “I mean… you  _ are _ a creditor, after all. It’s a big commitment.”

“Think of it like…” he trailed off, thinking momentarily. “Going to sleep. Only you get to live out your dreams, day in and day out.”

As he spoke, her mind was whirring faster than she could track. How was she going to make the last shot when he was stopping her at every turn? How would she manage it when he was literally  _ holding her _ , keeping her away from the table?

Then, a solution struck her. Something she had choreographed once before, for an incredibly odd musical number. It had been about some forbidden romance involving a couple of trapeze artists, and Theo had had to do all of her own stunts.

It was crazy… but it could work. She had done crazier, and she would do crazier still— but this was her last chance, and she wasn’t going to lose it.

Playing the part of the vapid damsel in distress, she summoned all of her girlish shyness, pulling herself flush against his chest.

“I bet you’re gentler than Cain ever was, huh?”

“Of course.”

“I’m nervous… but also a little excited,” she tittered, playing with his hair. He chuckled in return, pressing a kiss to her jawline. It was enough to make her sick.

“There’s nothing to worry about.” He readjusted his position, turning her, just slightly. This was exactly where she needed to be, though— directly parallel to where her cue stick was. “Just kiss me, and it’ll all be over, honey.”

Leaning forward, she smiled sweetly, her eyelids fluttering closed. His grip on her tightened, keeping her steady. Stopping herself mere  _ centimeters _ away from his lips, her smile widened, a mockery of his.

“Like hell, I will.”

Releasing her arms, she kept her legs locked around his waist as she leaned backwards as far as she could manage. Her spine creaked from the strain— it had been a  _ while _ since she had attempted anything this flexible— but she forced herself to keep going.

Suspended upside-down in his embrace, she grabbed the cue stick, and used the momentum of her movement to send it flying forward. This was her  _ only _ shot, and she wasn’t about to squander it!

The cue struck the cue ball with thunderous force. Devereux forced her back up into his embrace, just in time for the cue ball to crash into the eight ball.

“You little  _ cheat _ !”

Before she could respond, she heard a satisfyingly-familiar sound. Still in his arms, she looked over her shoulder.

The eight ball was gone. It had been sunk.

“I won,” she gasped, relief rushing to her head so quickly that it almost made her dizzy. With a disbelieving laugh, she repeated, “I won!”

That was it! She was  _ done _ ! All she needed was his ring, and then it would all be over! She was free!

With a slight sigh, Devereux set her down, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Alright, Wilkes. A deal’s a deal— you won, fair and square.”

This was hardly her first run-in with a creditor. Something in his voice set her on edge, gave her the sinking feeling that her trial wasn’t done yet.

_ What do you have planned, Devereux? _

With a wistful smile, he cupped her cheek, his eyes searching her face. Without a word, he lowered his gaze, sinking to one knee in a single, fluid motion. Taking her left hand in his, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

Taking the ring off, he slid it onto her left ring finger. The sight of it sent a twinge of irritation through her, though she didn’t fight him on it as much as she should have. Instead, she forced her expression into neutral disdain, looking down her nose at him as much as she could manage.

“With this, sweetheart, you’ve won. Congratulations.” She didn’t reply. Standing, he kept hold of her hand, smiling gently. “I’m giving you a five-second head-start.”

“Wha—?”

He released her. “Five.”

Spinning on her heel, she scrambled into a run—

“Four.”

She cleared the threshold, entering the hallway—

“Three.”

Her heels clacked against the wooden floors as she ran—

“Two!”

Devereux’s voice followed her, echoing through the halls—

“One!” Raucous, distorted laughter exploded from the parlor, followed by feverish scratching against wood, growing closer and closer. As she ran, she shot a look over her shoulder, only to see a tunnel of flesh barreling for her.

The patrons swarmed over one another, covering every square inch of the hall. Their darkened talons propelled them forward, moving as a single entity, marionettes to Devereux’s hive mind. They howled with laughter as they closed in one her, their jaws unhinging, revealing rows of sharpened teeth.

Closing in on one another, they began to form a single, grotesque being, converging together to create a giant, fleshy mass that threatened to swallow her whole.

Breaking into a sprint, she raced for the front door. Her hand closed around the handle, but it didn’t budge.

Pounding her fists against it, she screamed, “CHARLIE!” Spinning, her eyes flitted across the room, searching for any windows, a chimney, a fire escape,  _ anything _ . There was a window to her right, boarded up, but better than nothing.

Stumbling forward, the mass of swallowed patrons grew closer and closer, screaming and laughing and howling as they approached. She reached for the window—

A ear-shattering screech stopped her in her tracks, right as the undulating form of the patrons crawled over the window, blockading it. Several of their heads turned to face her, twisting and separating from the mass, reaching for her with elastic necks.

Theo backed away, every alarm in her body screaming at her to run. It didn’t matter where, she just had to  _ run _ !

“Ugly creatures, aren’t they?” Devereux’s voice called from the hall. Within moments, the entire room was covered in walls of flesh, pulsating, writhing, beating with a steady pulse of a corrupted heart. They blocked all forms of natural light, throwing the bordello into darkness, except for a few rogue lamps that illuminated themselves. “Don’t worry, Theo. They won’t hurt you unless I give them the order to.”

Turning to face him, her breath escaped her, shallow and ragged.

“Miss Wilkes?” she heard, though muffled, nearly swallowed by the patrons’ cacophonous breathing. It was Charlie’s voice. “Miss Wilkes!”

“Charlie…?” she piped up, refusing to take her eyes off of Devereux. “He’s blocking the exit, Charlie.”

“He can’t hear you, sweetheart.” With long, confident strides, he closed the distance between them. “No one can. It’s just you, me… and, of course, our simple-minded friends here.”

The patrons’ jaws opened up, grey, lumpy tongues lolling out, each one easily three feet long, reaching for her. Bile rose into her mouth, but she swallowed it down, her entire body shaking.

Devereux’s shadow loomed behind him, projected onto the wall. He smiled, baring sharpened fangs, his eyes glowing. The shadow shimmered, seeming not quite true to the form before her. By some trick of the light, she could swear she saw horns curling out of the sides of his silhouette’s head.

“Just because I can’t have your soul doesn’t mean I can just let you  _ live _ .” Clicking his tongue, he continued to advance upon her, pushing her further and further into the wall of patrons. “No, no. I can’t have that. It’d be a waste of all my hard work.”

Theo’s eyes flashed, once again, to his shadow, which continued to grow behind him. It grew darker, as if it was separating itself from the wall.

The shadow’s form changed, however, and it was that change that made her realize that it  _ was _ separating itself from the wall, taking on a far more corporeal form. It was no longer the form of a fantastical Devereux, but rather—

Its claws rose up, reaching forward, farther and farther. Stumbling back, Theo’s eyes went wide as the shadow’s talons closed around Devereux’s throat. His eyes bulged out of their sockets, frantically searching for the source of such an attack.

The patrons began to scream, an ungodly collection of anguished howls, each rising and falling over one another. From the far end of the hallway, a wave of energy passed over them, disintegrating them as it fell over their skin. Like a wildfire, it consumed them whole, leaving only ash in its wake, pittering out when the last of them had been consumed.

The shadow spun Devereux around, little more than a ragdoll in its all-powerful grip. It grew and grew, looming over both Devereux and Theo, slowly taking a shape that they were far too familiar with.

“Such insubordination,” The Entity seethed, her single, visible blue eye shining out of the darkness. “Mister Devereux, you have had your chance. In fact, I would dare say that you have had far too  _ many  _ chances.” Any ounce of humanity that she had emulated seemed to vanish from her visage as she looked down upon him. “And now, the trial is over.”

“Madame, wait—!”

“Enough is  _ enough, _ Mister Devereux.” And, with a snap of her elongated fingers, the world went black.


	11. The Entity

Theo blinked. That was all it took, was one  _ blink _ , and she was out of that hellish bordello, out of the ashy confines of the building. Indeed, when her eyes opened, she thought she must have been dreaming again, as the scenery moved unnaturally, building itself from the ground-up.

It  _ seemed  _ to be a sitting room. Big, picture windows revealed a tranquil, countryside setting outside, while the ornate, antique furniture created a lived-in, comforting feel. It was something she would expect from a long-lost, rich aunt, who had been widowed in her mid-20s, and had refused to remarry after living on her late husband’s fortune.

“Welcome to my home, Miss Wilkes.” The Entity’s posh coo broke Theo out of her thoughts. Though, she was hardly surprised by the imagery that had formed in her mind. Nothing said  _ widowed under mysterious circumstances _ quite like The Entity. “Take a seat, the others shall be here soon.”

“The others?” she asked. The Entity gave her a mysterious smile, but didn’t elaborate further. Glancing around the room, the silence was filled by the ticking of a clock, birdsong, and distant, pleasant classical music… probably from a gramophone in another room.

It felt oddly welcoming, despite the owner.

As she looked around, taking in the various antiques— which seemed to fit the room a little  _ too _ well, almost like a set for a play— her eyes landed on someone that did  _ not _ belong, meeting his icy glare.

Devereux stood in the corner, his arms crossed across his chest, much like a petulant child. She couldn’t believe the nerve; he was  _ sulking _ . The other creditors hadn’t been kidding— he  _ was _ a sore loser.

Before she could throw the barest of taunts his way, running footsteps resounded through the hall outside the sitting room, echoing through the house. The door slammed open, and she could barely register who had even walked in before he made a beeline for her.

“Oh, Theo!” Vabsley cried, throwing his arms around her, and trapping her in his embrace.

“Get the hell off of me!” she snarled. She had already dealt with enough man-handling for one lifetime, thank you very much. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Devereux tense.

Well, at least they agreed on  _ one  _ thing.

“Did that  _ scoundrel _ of a creature hurt you, Theo, honey?” His “hug” (which, for the record, was the physical equivalent of a bear trap, and twice as unwanted) confined her movements, stopping her from shoving him away. “Oh, don’t you worry your pretty, little head about him. He won’t cause you any more strife.”

“Yeah, ‘cause  _ I _ took care of him,” she grumbled. “Let go of me, Vabsley.”

“Did you tell him about our wedding?” Finally, he leaned out of the hug, though he kept a firm grip on her arms. Shooting a nasty smile towards Devereux, he continued, “We might’ve parted on bad terms, but the offer still stands. If anything, I’m  _ more _ than willing to overlook our bad terms, now that he has his tail between his legs.”

The door opened again, and this time, it was someone she actually didn’t mind seeing. He made a beeline for Vabsley, picking him up by the back of his coat collar, and shoving him away.

“Hands off of my niece,  _ boy _ ,” Harrington hissed.

“Mister Harrington, old boy!” Vabsley smiled, opening his arms for a brotherly embrace. Harrington, however, was having none of it. “Your  _ niece _ and I were just discussing—”

“We’re not discussing  _ anything _ ,” Theo snapped. “I already said no once. Privately, no less! Don’t make me reject you in front of everyone.”

Vabsley’s eyes widened as if he had been struck. With his wounded ego, he sulked, trudging to a far corner of the room, opposite Devereux.

Taking Theo’s hands, Harrington’s expression softened, filled with affection. “I am so happy you made it, my dear girl.”

“Thank you, Mister Harrington.”

“Ah, ah! Just Phineas, remember?” he winked, just as her father used to. Turning to The Entity, he removed his hat, and bowed to her. “Madame, a pleasure to see you again.”

“And you, Mister Harrington,” she smiled, obviously amused.

“Theodora, please pardon me for a moment,” he smiled, his cheeks rosy as he squeezed her hands.

Turning on his heel, he stormed towards Devereux, who immediately flinched upon spotting Harrington. The younger creditor couldn’t even get a word out before Harrington’s fist crashed into his face, sending him flying to the floor. Theo coughed out a surprised laugh, enjoying the scene far too much.

“I warned you, boy! I told you that I’d have your guts for garters, and I’m a man of my word!”

“Mister Harrington, that is enough,” The Entity snapped, her dangerously even voice subduing him. “Mister Devereux will receive his punishment in due time, we must all have patience until then.”

Vabsley snickered.

“What’re  _ you _ laughing about, snake?” Devereux spat, scrambling to his feet.

“Comeuppance is always such a pleasure to witness,” Vabsley sneered. Devereux stormed over, closing the distance between them. He stopped short, snarling in Vabsley’s face. As expected, Vabsley was taller. “I cannot  _ wait  _ to see what The Entity has in mind for you.”

“You mind your  _ business _ .”

“Your timely demise  _ is _ my business.”

“Shut your mouth, pretty boy.”

“Make me, Casanova.”

“Gentlemen,  _ enough _ !” The Entity snapped again. With a sigh, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I should expect this squabbling from the children, and yet, I am still woefully surprised.”

Both of them winced, and, though they did their utmost to maintain their confidence, retreated to their respective corners.

Harrington took a seat on a setee in the middle of the room, and, locking eyes with Theo, patted the empty space next to him. With a small smile, she took her seat next to him.

Just in time, too. The door opened once more, and Robertson waddled in. Seeing him sent a wave of disgust over her. Despite the amount of time that had passed, she could still remember his restaurant, and the people trapped within it, far too vividly.

“Ha! So the Wilkes girl lived,” he grumbled, sinking into the nearest chair. “What an unpleasant surprise.” Clearing his throat, he nodded his head to The Entity. “Madame.”

“Mister Robertson.”

Dods entered next, turning his pointed nose up at the company, and muttering under his breath. Taking his place next to the fireplace, he took more interest in The Entity’s interior decor than the people filling the room.

“Dods has never been the friendliest,” Harrington whispered to her.

“He forfeited the game, y’know,” she whispered back. His eyes went wide, a scandalized smile pulling at his lips as he chuckled.

“Did he now?” he asked with a chortle. “Even  _ I _ refrained from forfeiting. I’m shocked!”

Dods shot the two of them a nasty look, but didn’t defend himself. Pursing her lips, Theo looked away, fighting off a smile.

Finally, Walker lumbered in, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Ma’am.”

“Mister Walker, forgive me for waking you.” He grunted in response. Leaning against the nearest wall, his head dipped as he began to nod off. It seemed that the trip to The Entity’s home had really taken it out of him. “Now that we are all here, let us begin debriefing the Wilkes case.”

“Just a moment, Madame—” Robertson interjected. “Mister Cain has yet to arrive.”

“Mister Cain’s service to me has come to an abrupt end.”

The uninformed creditors’ eyes widened, looking between one another, searching for answers. Striding to the middle of the room, she held her head high, the picture of confidence, leadership…  _ ownership _ .

Somehow, she seemed even taller than Theo remembered. She certainly towered over everyone in attendance. Vabsley was the tallest, and she was still a full two heads taller than him. How could that be?

“Mister Devereux, perhaps you would care to explain how these circumstances came to be?”

“What does  _ he  _ know?” Vabsley sneered. “How could Cain end his service to you without notice, Madame?”

The Entity’s eye landed on Devereux, who squirmed under her piercing gaze. One by one, the other creditors’ eyes fell on him, the elephant in the room. Correcting his posture, he gave one of his confident, suave smiles.

Even Theo knew he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Why don’t you tell them what happened in St. Louis, Devereux?” Theo smiled, feigning innocence.

He shot her a dirty look, the ugliness underlying his features exposing itself, although he quickly corrected it. He couldn’t lay a hand on her there, and they both knew it. The Entity, Harrington, and, to a degree, even  _ Vabsley _ wouldn’t let him even get  _ close _ .

Clearing his throat, Devereux cast a casual glance around the room. He had never shown remorse with her, not even for a  _ second _ , but he was showing remorse  _ now. _ A petty part of Theo truly appreciated it, and did her utmost to revel in it.

“Well,” he started, swallowing hard. “... He tried to move in on my contract. Unfortunately, I was forced to take a few extreme measures, and— purely in self-defense, I assure you, gentlemen— I was given  _ no choice _ but to… eradicate him.”

The room exploded in accusatory hisses, whispers, yells, screams… every creditor in the room was well and truly  _ outraged _ . Only Theo and The Entity refrained from speaking, watching Devereux with equally cold gazes.

The creditors crowded Devereux, grabbing him, shoving him, spitting in his face, insulting him. Every single one of them threatened him, his existence, creating a cacophony of bloodlust in the grand, immaculate sitting room.

The Entity snapped her fingers, the sound echoing off the walls, calling everyone to attention.

“Now, now,” she smiled, oddly calm. “I have informed you that he will be facing his due punishment.”

As she strode towards him, her shadow stretching across the floor, the other creditors backed off, retreating to their respective corners. Devereux, once such a threat, seemed to be reduced to nothing more than a misbehaving child under her glare.

“Miss Wilkes.” Theo flinched in her seat, sitting up a little straighter. “I do hate to do this before our mortal guest. May I ask you to turn your head, please?” Her perfectly inhuman smile stretched wider across her face. “And, please, do not look back until I grant you permission. No matter what you may hear. I have been given no choice but to make an  _ example _ out of him.”

Swallowing hard, she nodded, and turned herself around on the setee, facing the back wall. What was The Entity going to do? Was she going to kill Devereux for his crime? Was she going to torture him, right here and now? Was she going to start the apocalypse, as Dods had mentioned once, all that time ago?

“Mister Devereux.”

The lights in the room began to flicker and fail, dimming and brightening in short intervals, seemingly unsure of how they wished to go. The fire in the fireplace popped and hissed, just a  _ little _ too loud. But, worst of all, Theo had the sinking feeling that something was rising up behind her, looming over her, that millions of eyes were watching her.

Outside, the picturesque countryside darkened, the sun-dappled trees falling into stormy shadow. Large, threatening thunderheads rolled over the scene, blotting out the sun, turning it dark as night. Thunder rumbled, so low that it rattled the foundation of the house.

Only the fire, which seemed to grow brighter, provided consistent light. The Entity’s shadow projected onto the walls of the sitting room, the flames causing the silhouettes to dance. The shadows accentuated the hollows in the faces of the creditors she could see— Harrington, Vabsley, and Walker— giving them a skeletal visage amidst their silent horror.

“Madame—” Devereux choked. She heard a body hit the ground— presumably his. “Please! I can explain!”

_ “There is nothing to explain, Mister Devereux,”  _ The Entity growled, her voice warping into something deeper, more sinister.  _ “You have committed insubordination to its highest degree.” _

For a moment, Theo thought the others had joined in, as she heard  _ multiple _ voices speaking over one another. However, when she looked around, she realized that  _ no one else _ was talking, they were all frozen to their spots, watching the scene with wide, horrified eyes.

_ “You  _ **_directly_ ** _ disobeyed orders,” _ she continued, though her voice was so warped and distorted, it was hard to believe it was her, at all.  _ “You impersonated a Divine Guide, purposefully misguided a mortal outside of your vortex, murdered one of your own without due cause…” _

As The Entity spoke, Theo’s eyes wandered to her shadow on the wall. It flickered, changing from something humanoid to something she could barely wrap her head around. It grew— barbed, insectoid mandibles and antennae emerging from where her head had once been.

Her voice, simultaneously impossibly deep and piercingly grating, was echoed by shrill, faraway screams. Theo could hear men sobbing, women begging, all anguished and tortured, without respite.

The shadow became worse, still. Reaching hands, with impossibly sharp talons, extended from her chest, surrounding and grabbing Devereux, hoisting him off the ground.

_ “YET WORSE THAN ALL OF THIS, YOU HAVE DONE  _ **_ME_ ** _ A GRAVE DISSERVICE, MISTER DEVEREUX.” _

“Madame,  _ please _ , I beg of you—!!” he sobbed, terror finally breaking down his façade. If Theo wasn’t scared out of her wits, she would think it was a great act of comeuppance.

Alas.

**_“SILENCE!!”_ ** The Entity screamed, infinite voices and languages and cries and screams all combining to create a nightmarish cacophony.  **_“THERE ARE FEW THINGS THAT I CANNOT OVERLOOK, MISTER DEVEREUX. YOU SAW AN OPPORTUNITY? VERY WELL. YOU USED CRAFT AND CUNNING TO ACHIEVE YOUR MEANS? I CAN ACCEPT THAT. EVEN_ ** **_MURDERING_ ** **_YOUR COLLEAGUE— ALL IS FAIR IN THIS GAME WE PLAY.”_ **

_ She’s gonna kill him—  _

**_“HOWEVER._ **

**_YOU KNOW_ **

**_HOW I FEEL_ **

**_A B O U T_ **

**_C H E A T I N G_ ** **_! ! ”_ **

The foundation of the building shook with her scream. Her head split open, her maws opened up, and the hands seemed to shove Devereux inside of her waiting jaw. He screamed, visceral, animalistic.

With a sickening  **_CRUNCH_ ** , the maws snapped closed, interrupting his scream. Even in the silhouette, Devereux’s head was missing, providing a snack for The Entity’s waiting jaws. Theo wretched, doubling forward, threatening to vomit on The Entity’s pristine floors.

Fear stopped her from making a grave mistake of her own. Swallowing down the bile, tears in her eyes, she cupped her hands over her ears, begging to wake up, begging for the nightmare to end here before it could  _ possibly _ get any worse.

Though she had covered her ears, she could still hear the sounds of Devereux’s body being broken down in The Entity’s mouths, the screams of the anguished echoing off of the walls, surrounding them.

Then, just like taking the needle off of a gramophone, the noise stopped, the sudden quiet both a welcome relief and an unnerving addition.

Slowly, hesitantly, Theo removed her hands from her ears. Once more, she heard the sound of a body hitting the floor— once more, presumably Devereux’s, though she had thought there was nothing left of it— with the sound of deep, shuddering breathing.

The Entity sighed, just as prim and proper as usual, as if the previous scene had never happened.

“Look at that. You made me lose my temper.” With a click of her tongue, she sighed again. This seemed to be a  _ minor _ inconvenience for her! “Miss Wilkes, you may turn around.”

She wasn’t sure she  _ wanted _ to. But, after (sort of) seeing what had happened to Devereux, she wasn’t going to test The Entity’s patience. Turning around, she was met with a perfectly replicated human woman in a hat, and a regurgitated surprise.

Devereux sat there, fully intact, clutching his chest, pallid and wide-eyed and covered in sweat. It didn’t help that all of the other creditors wore similar expressions.

“I’m alive?” he mouthed, frantically checking his person.

_ He’s alive?! _

“Yes, you are alive,” The Entity said, looking down her perfect, human nose at him. “For now.”

“‘For’--?!” he gasped. Crawling to her feet, he looked up at her, groveling. With a shaking voice, he plead, “Please, Madame, I would do  _ anything  _ to repent for this disservice against you. But please…  _ please _ don’t do that to me again!”

“Your punishment is not yet over, Mister Devereux,” she explained. Theo blanched, and she was quite sure everyone  _ else _ did, too. “That is for the slight against me. However, you have done an even greater disservice to…” The Entity’s gaze fell on her, followed by Devereux’s. “Miss Wilkes, here.”

“What?” she breathed.

“What?” a few others gasped.

“ _ WHAT?” _ Devereux snarled. “Madame, you must be  _ joking _ ! She’s a human! Since when have you cared about how  _ they _ feel?”

“ _ Quiet _ ,” she snapped. He flinched, but didn’t speak against her again. “You said you would do  _ anything _ , and I am telling you now: it will be to accept her punishment with an  _ ounce _ of grace. The stars know you are so very lacking in it.”

He looked much like a fish at the market, staring up at her with wide eyes that couldn’t understand her reasoning. Perhaps that, or a spoiled child who was being punished for the first time. The Entity grimaced, turning her gaze to Theo.

“Miss Wilkes?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“As this sorry excuse for a creature has caused you much suffering, whatever punishment you believe is suiting, I shall  _ personally _ see to it that it is fulfilled.”

Theo’s eyes widened. Within moments, she was the center of attention; every creditor in the room looked at her with horrified, disdained expressions. This young woman, this  _ human _ , would be doling out a punishment to an immortal  _ creditor _ ? How could she even wrap her head around the severity of his crimes, much less the proper severity of his punishment?

“Me?” she squeaked, pointing to herself, as if there would be  _ any other _ “me” in the room. “I… I appreciate the gesture, but why are you offering that to me?”

“Why, as restitution, of course,” The Entity blinked, almost innocent, despite her actions only minutes prior. “If you wish to decline the offer, then I shall assign a punishment on your behalf.”

Devereux shot The Entity a glare, which she returned ten-fold, scaring him back into submission.

Theo weighed her options. On one hand, the  _ nice _ thing to do would be to  _ be the bigger person _ , or have some other, similar act of altruism. On the other hand, Devereux was a complete bastard, and she wanted to watch him  _ squirm _ for humiliating her, breaking her heart, endangering her…

It was a tough choice. It would be a heavy weight on her morality for the rest of—

“I’ll assign the punishment.”

… Or not. Perhaps it  _ was  _ an easy choice for her.

“Do you have something in mind, Miss Wilkes?”

_ Now _ it was time to weigh her options. What would be a suiting punishment for him? She could ask for The Entity to do a repeat of… whatever she just did. Oh, but that was rather short-term, and Theo wasn’t  _ that _ forgiving.

No. He had been  _ awful _ to her. She would need to think of something else.

_ “A month of torture.” _

_ “Seducing you was such a  _ **_chore_ ** _.” _

_ “You’re talking  _ **_real big_ ** _ for a woman who was ready to throw herself into my arms!” _

_ “Poor, little Theo.” _

_ “But you know what the real problem is, Theo? You were  _ **_born_ ** _.” _

_ “I was the one who told Wilkesy to kill himself.” _

_ “Stop running, Theo.  _ **_You know you want this.”_ **

_ “A month of torture.” _

_ “A month of torture.” _

_ “A MONTH OF TORTURE.” _

Her gaze fell to the pitiful man before her, still seated on the floor, glaring at her with silent, icy rage. He was contemptible— he might have used her, but she’d show him a thing or two about the pettiness of humanity.

“Ma’am, might I say a few things first?” Theo asked.

The Entity nodded, slow and deliberate, eyeing her with no shortage of suspicion. Theo stood, and took her place in the center of the room, addressing the immortal beings around her.

“All of you, except one, waited for me. You all had your chance, and didn’t take any more, or any less, of my time. Even if you tried to cheat while we played our games, or tried to stop me from leaving, you all played fair… more or less.

“Devereux was the exception to this. For those of you that didn’t know, he posed as my Divine Guide. He told me secrets about all of you, how to best prepare myself before entering your businesses. He gave me such an advantage, all while trying to get me for himself.

“Day in and day out, he tried to woo me, romance me… and, y’know what? I’ll admit that he did a damn good job of it. I fell for him, head over heels. I thought that when this whole mess was over, I’d get my happily ever after with the man of my dreams. I only found out he wasn’t who he said he was because Cain cornered him.”

“Does this monologue of yours have a  _ point _ , Miss Wilkes?” Dods sneered.

“Shut up and listen, and you’ll see,” she snapped. Clearing her throat, she continued, “When Devereux had been exposed, he used a particular phrase that has stuck with me for the last few days. He said that his time with me had been a ‘month of torture’. I imagine that this is because he couldn’t properly abuse his influence, or he’d expose himself, right, Devereux?”

He said nothing.

“So, that got me thinking. If  _ that _ was a month of torture for him… then, for his punishment…” she trailed off, setting her jaw. His glare wasn’t a threat, but a  _ promise _ — a promise that he would do everything in his power to make her life miserable from there on out. “For the next 100 years, I want to be the  _ only _ human being that he can interact with.”

_ “WHAT?!” _ The single word was screeched by the others in a horrified chorus.

“No power. No influence.  _ Nothing _ , for the next century, except me… and him,” she said, with all the fortitude of a woman scorned. Shooting him a sidelong glare, she smirked, “How’s  _ that _ for torture?”

“Wikes, I’ll kill you—!” Devereux snarled, finally scrambling to his feet. He was stopped by The Entity, who placed a firm hand on his shoulder, her talons digging into the fabric of his suit. Turning to face her, he protested, “You can’t let her do this! It’ll kill me!”

“Oh, fret not, Mister Devereux,” The Entity grinned, exposing sharpened teeth. “I will  _ personally _ see to it that you do not expire.”

He blanched, looking back towards Theo, smiling apologetically.

“Theo, sweetheart,” he panted, his bravado faltering and failing before her very eyes. She  _ reveled _ in it. “C’mon, honey… you don’t understand what something like that would do to me. It’d be like  _ starving _ !”

“Good thing you gorged yourself on those patrons in St. Louis, then, isn’t it?”

“Theo—”

“That’s the punishment I have in mind, ma’am,” she said to The Entity. Shooting a dirty look Devereux’s way, she grumbled, “I’m fairly confident that I won’t be falling for his charms again.”

“Then, Miss Wilkes, consider it done.”

“No!” Devereux cried, frantically looking between his judge and his executioner. “You can’t do this!”

Yet, despair dawned upon his visage as he realized that his protests would only fall on deaf ears. Bowing his head, he took hold of The Entity’s hand, wrenching her grip away from his shoulder. He took his leave, silently retreating to a spot near the window, his back turned to the rest of the room.

A pang of guilt rang through her heart at the sight of it, his façade of confidence so completely obliterated before his peers, his colleagues. Although, she wondered if that was only her lingering affection for him speaking, rather than her rationality.

The sound of slow clapping broke her out of her thoughts. Vabsley emerged from his corner, just as arrogant as ever.

“Bravo, Madame, truly,” he drawled. With a grimace, Theo rolled her eyes. “This is a punishment suiting a vagrant such as him. I couldn’t have chosen a better sentence, myself, I have to say. And, let me add, Madame, that it’s such an  _ honor _ to witness the downfall of—”

“Do you ever  _ shut up _ , Vabsley?” Theo snapped. “I get it, okay? You hate the guy. You think you’re better than him, and everyone else in this room. That doesn’t mean you’re  _ right _ .”

A few, sparse chuckles filled the silence that followed. Vabsley glared at her, seemingly unable to choose whether he was completely flabbergasted or entirely offended, settling somewhere in-between. Theo stood her ground, crossing her arms across her chest, glaring at him with a quirked eyebrow.

“Mister Vabsley, take a seat,” The Entity commanded. With an uneasy glance about the room, he found no allies, and retreated to his corner, taking a seat on a small stool. “Miss Wilkes, if I may ask for you to return the rings you have collected along your journey?”

_ Oh. Right. _ She had nearly forgotten, amidst all of the hubbub of running for her life, and believing her soul to be eternally lost, just because Devereux was a sore loser.

The Entity pointed to a small console table, tapping it twice with her perfectly sharpened red nail. Stepping forward, Theo opened her purse, and began to take out the rings, one by one.

“Robertson. Walker. Dods. Harrington. Vabsley. Cain…” she muttered. Looking down at her left hand, she wrestled with Devereux’s ring, forcibly sliding it off of her finger. Had it shrunk? Or had it simply grown accustomed to her skin? She wasn’t sure, and she didn’t want to know. “... And Devereux.”

“Well done.”

The Entity passed her hand over the rings, dark smoke drifting down from her outstretched palm. When the smoke dissipated, the rings had disappeared. Theo was hardly surprised— she had seen  _ much _ worse, even just in the last 24 hours, and half of that had been from The Entity, herself.

“What did you need the rings for, anyway?” Theo asked, remembering Dods’ warning. Even if he had been lying— which she still wasn’t entirely confident that he  _ had been _ — it had still stuck with her.

“Merely as a method of measuring your progress, Miss Wilkes,” she explained. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

_ That’s it? _ All of that trouble, all of that worry, just for a  _ landmark _ ? Why couldn’t she have just said that from the beginning?

As irritated as she was, Theo wasn’t about to speak up against her decision. She had fought too hard and too long to be killed at the very end. Particularly now, when she wanted to see the results of Devereux’s punishment firsthand.

“Gentlemen,” The Entity smiled. With a flick of her wrist, her cigarette holder seemed to appear out of nowhere, much like a magic trick. She took a drag from it, delicately blowing out smoke. “Do you understand why I sent Miss Wilkes to contest your contracts?”

“To put us in our place,” Devereux grumbled from his spot next to the window, audible, but only just.

“Exactly, Mister Devereux. Why, it is almost as though you had eavesdropped on my conversation with Miss Wilkes, here.” He tensed, but didn’t say anything, nor did he look back. The Entity’s eye scanned the room, focusing on each and every creditor. “Yes, it is true that Miss Wilkes is hardier than the average human being, however, she is not as rare as you all may like to believe. Humanity is ever-changing, growing stronger— you are simply all  _ fools _ to believe it has stagnated.”

“Madame! That is going too far!” Dods protested, though he was quickly silenced by one of her icy glares.

“You believe this is ‘going too far’, Mister Dods? Before the Wilkes case, I was simply considering terminating your service to me, and promptly exterminating all of you. If anything, each and every one of you should be  _ grateful _ to Miss Wilkes for inadvertently saving your pitiful existences.”

Her words settled in the air, the growing tension amongst the creditors palpably obvious, even to Theo. Many of them refused to look at her, instead choosing to twiddle their thumbs, or fix minute details of their appearances, such as a loose button, or a crooked watch chain.

“Instead,” she continued, “I chose to give all of you a chance to learn. Of course, if any of you would  _ rather _ I terminate your service, please, do speak up now.”

The silence spoke for itself.

“That is what I  _ thought _ .”

The creditors shifted, whether they were standing or sitting, and, with the exception of Harrington, looked away from The Entity or Theo. Harrington met Theo’s gaze, giving her a concerned, apologetic smile, as if to say,  _ sorry you have to listen to all this business talk, my girl. _

Theo, however, was relieved that the attention wasn’t solely on her, for once.

“Miss Wilkes’ soul is no longer forfeit. If any of you interact with her in a threatening manner, you  _ will  _ face the consequences. Her soul belongs to her, and her alone, until the day she dies. Do you all understand?”

“Yes, Madame,” said the oh, so grumpy chorus of creditors.

“Good. Then, unless Miss Wilkes has any business that she wishes to finalize, this meeting is adjourned.”

Her brief respite from her role as the center of attention was brought to an end, and all eyes landed on her. Glancing about the room, she felt an oddly somber sense of finality come over her.

It was all over. What did she have to show for it? A soul, yes, but that was hardly something that she could perceive. Was she going to walk out of that room, and return to her normal, everyday life, without so much as a souvenir to remember her adventure by?

No, of course not.

“Actually, ma’am,” she spoke up. “If I could ask for one more favor.”

“What is it, Miss Wilkes?”

Pursing her lips, she took a deep breath, and spit out the words, “A photograph.” The Entity’s single, visible eye widened, though she quickly recovered. “If possible, I want a photograph with everyone, to remember this by.”

“Do your asinine requests never end, girl?” Robertson spat. “You want us to sit for a photograph? For what, a  _ souvenir _ ?”

“I must agree,” Dods sneered. “This is beyond humiliating, and I shall not agree to it.”

“Count me out,” Walker grumbled.

“Not a chance,” Devereux muttered, still not turning to face the rest of the room.

She should have seen this coming, to be fair. Of  _ course _ they wouldn’t agree. They were a bunch of semi-immortal beings; they must have had better things to do with their time. Tormenting humanity must have maxed out most of their schedules.

“Well, a photograph is hardly asking for all that much,” The Entity cooed, much to the chagrin of the majority of individuals in the room.

With a snap of her fingers, the door to the sitting room flew open, and a mobster— though, this one was specifically dressed as a butler— scuttled in. Somehow, despite just showing up, they already looked prepared to apologize.

“Fetch the camera, will you?”

“At once, Madame,” the mobster-butler murmured, scuttling out of the room. Only moments passed before they scuttled back in, struggling to carry a tripod and a camera at the same time. They stumbled to the middle of the room, setting the tripod down slowly, completely unsure. “Here, Madame?”

“Yes, I suppose that will do.” The mobster-butler nodded, taking about three and a half steps back, hands folded in front of them. “Miss Wilkes, as you have done me such a great favor, I am feeling particularly generous. So, please, allow me to give these fools the same incentive.” With a slight pause, she turned to her employees, eyebrow quirked. “Anyone who does not wish to see their existence extinguished from this plane, take a seat on that setee over there.”

Harrington straightened, struggling to hide his amusement as Theo took a seat next to him. The others hesitated, not wanting to lower themselves for a mere human, but with a few threatening glares from The Entity, they had enough hustle in their bustles to get over it.

The Entity’s butler took their position behind the camera, looking just as thrilled to be tasked with taking a photograph as they would look if they were asked to clean the entire house with a toothbrush.

Theo and Harrington sat in the center of the setee. To her right sat The Entity, Vabsley, and Walker; to Harrington’s left sat Dods, Robertson, and Devereux, who kept as much space between himself and Theo as possible.

Theo sat tall, and smiled for the camera. She was going to treasure this photograph for a  _ long _ time, and she would make sure she looked pleasant amidst all of this suffering. She was the human champion, after all. It was hard  _ not _ to smile.

With a quiet sigh, the mobster-butler took the photo, the flash powder going up in a cloud of smoke. Excusing themself, they took the camera and the tripod, and left the room, only to return about a minute and a half later with the photograph in hand. If Theo was in any other company, she would have been floored by how quickly the photograph developed, however, she knew better than to expect anything less from The Entity (or her staff).

“Here you are, miss,” the mobster-butler mumbled. Their exhaustion was etched into their features, dark bags under the eyes, a certain soullessness that couldn’t be attributed to the type of creature they were, but rather, to the circumstances of their employment. When was the last time they had experienced joy? Bloodlust? Anything but pitiful, burnt-out sadness? Theo couldn’t say.

Taking the photograph into her hands, her smile grew. She, The Entity, and Harrington were all smiles; Vabsley was smirking, in his usual manner; and Dods, Robertson, Walker and Devereux looked absolutely miserable.

This would be the perfect addition to her dressing room. A wonderful reminder that she could survive  _ anything _ .

“A lovely photograph, indeed,” The Entity hummed. “Perhaps I shall have a copy made, so that I might keep it on my desk.” There were a few grumbles from that statement, though no one dared to outwardly speak in opposition. “Very well, then. If that is all you require, Miss Wilkes?”

“Yes, ma’am. That was it.”

“Lovely. Then, with the exception of Mister Devereux and Miss Wilkes, the remainder of you are dismissed.”

Robertson, Walker, and Dods wasted no time in vacating the room, shooting Theo nasty, parting looks, a vague glow to their eyes. She met all of their glares head-on, never once flinching or turning away from the challenge. However, aside from their nonverbal confrontations, they left quietly.

Harrington took her hands in his, all smiles as he promised to come visit, and insisted that she come to visit him and Clementine in Ohio. He gave her an overwhelmingly friendly hug, whispering that he was proud of her, and knew that her father was, as well. With a jolly laugh, he patted her head, and walked to the door. He paused, looking back at Vabsley, keeping a close eye on him.

Vabsley approached her last, keeping a respectable distance from her. However, he held out his hand to her, ever the gentleman. Against her better judgment, she placed her hand in his, and was hardly surprised when he placed a kiss to her knuckles, looking at her with a sparkle in his eye. He promised her fame and fortune, should she ever change her mind about becoming his wife. She declined, once more, though she enjoyed the boost to her ego.

Finally, Vabsley and Harrington left, leaving only The Entity, Devereux, and Theo behind. Devereux had taken his place next to the window once more, keeping his back to her. Folding her hands in her lap, Theo looked to The Entity, only to see her already holding her gaze.

“Why did you ask me to stay behind, ma’am?” she asked. In an instant, she realized that she still had the pendant that The Entity had leant to her. “Oh— here, your necklace! That’s what you needed, right?”

“Keep it, my dear,” she smiled, far more gentle than Theo had ever seen from her. “Though, you may remove it whenever you wish. You are no longer obligated to keep it on your person.” Theo thanked her, to which she nodded. “In actuality, I asked you to stay behind because I wished to discuss a rather sensitive topic with you: the replacement of the creditor known as Cain.”

_ Oh. _ It must have been because Theo witnessed his death, that’s what she thought. Maybe she could give The Entity more insight on what happened that night? Though, she wasn’t sure  _ why _ she would even ask, seeing as how omniscient she seemed to be.

The Entity beckoned her over to a large mirror hanging by the fireplace. Theo stepped up alongside her, looking at her reflection, at The Entity’s reflection, of them, standing side by side, a human, and an impossibly powerful creature.

“Miss Wilkes, you have shown an incredible amount of strength in the last month. You have overcome six of the seven creditors unassisted, which is no small feat. And, now that my oldest, and most successful creditor has been terminated from his position… I would like to offer his job to  _ you _ .”

Try as she might, Theo couldn’t move her eyes from the reflection before her. Her eyes widened at the offer, perhaps out of surprise, perhaps out of fear, though she wasn’t sure which she felt more. Devereux began to protest, but was silenced through means unknown.

The Entity smiled, serene, and yet, twisted. The smile of a creature that was borne from chaos, that fed off of suffering, and yet, could grant comfort in times of distress.

“Imagine yourself as a creditor, Miss Wilkes. You would do wonderful work,” she continued. As the words fell from her mouth, filling every gap in Theo’s mind, their reflections began to change, rippling and warping as if a stone had been cast into water. “I have never offered such a position to a human before, which only goes to show the extent of my deep respect for you.”

When her reflection came to a standstill, she saw herself… or, so she thought. Her eyes glowed, while a venomous smile pulled at her lips, exposing pointed canines. Horns curled from either side of her head, the ends sharpened into barb-like points.

It wasn’t her. She knew that, and yet, it didn’t fully sink in. It wasn’t her… but it  _ could be _ . Did she  _ want _ it to be?

Cain had been insanely powerful. He could have anything he wanted. Nobody would ever speak up against him, nor would anyone speak down to him. If anything, his death had been a  _ fluke _ . He would have been untouchable, if it hadn’t been for Theo.

Could she achieve what he couldn’t?

_ No, I couldn’t. _

**_Yes, you could._ **

“Ma’am, I’m honored,” she started, lowering her gaze from her reflection, fixating solely on her shoes. “But I couldn’t accept your offer.”

“Oh? You wish to decline immortality?”

“Frankly, I’ve seen immortality… and I don’t want anything to do with it,” Theo sighed, rubbing her arms. “Whether it’s as a creditor, or a patron, or an assistant… it just isn’t worth it. I’ve lived my life knowing that, one day, I’m gonna die, and, y’know what, ma’am? I actually take comfort in knowing there’s a set end to my life.”

Raising her eyes, she looked at the reflection once more, only to see herself, as she has always been, and as she always would be. She was Theodora Wilkes, the human, the actress, and that’s what she would remain.

“I guess that must sound pretty silly to you, doesn’t it?” she giggled, releasing a few bubbles of nervous energy. “I don’t want to die, of course, but I want to live like it counts, and that means making sure there’s a set end.”

With a prim sigh, The Entity stepped away. “I thought I would offer it to you, at the very least.” Once more, Theo expressed her thanks, though she wasn’t sure she  _ should have _ . “Think nothing of it, Miss Wilkes. Though, I must admit, it has been quite some time since someone has rejected an offer from  _ me _ . I applaud your dedication to your ideals.”

Was it  _ really _ a compliment? Doubtful.

Theo watched The Entity, a question forming in the back of her mind, tugging at her. Part of her was hesitant to ask such an invasive question, and yet, part of her  _ needed _ to know the answer. How could she get through the entirety of this quest without coming any closer to the truth?

Summoning her strength, she took a breath, and raised her voice.

“Ma’am?” The Entity acknowledged her, but did not look at her. Now, just to ask this delicately… “Well, I was, um…” she trailed off, deciding to take the roundabout path. “I have met others who believe that there is… I dunno, I guess some form of… ultimate good, or ultimate evil. And I guess… I guess I was just wondering if…”

Her voice ultimately failed her. She didn’t want to outright ask, after all— it just felt too rude. One thing she had learned with The Entity had been to  _ always _ watch her manners.

“Are you asking if I am The Devil? Or if I am God?” The Entity smiled, finally meeting Theo’s gaze. “Though, only a small proportion of humans use such pseudonyms.”

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she nodded. She was more wondering if The Entity was the former. After all, the creditors all answered to her. And yet, the Charleses seemed to, as well. So which was it?

“To put it simply, Miss Wilkes, I am both, and I am neither. It simply depends on what is being asked of me.” Her smile seemed to widen, though not necessarily out of mirth. “I am simply... The Entity.”

With that, Theo knew she was better off not knowing.  _ Both _ was a perfectly acceptable answer! Case closed! Nothing to see here!

“I see,” was all she could say. Fiddling with her gloves, she managed a faltering smile. “Then, um… that was all I wanted to know. Thanks for answering.”

The Entity nodded, taking a long drag from her cigarette as she regarded her. Clearing her throat slightly, Theo took slow steps away from her, heading for the window. Standing opposite Devereux, she looked at the scenery, which had returned to its sunny, fake perfection.

“Hm,” was all The Entity said, her eye narrowing into a dangerous glare. “Then, Miss Wilkes,” she said, perfect smoke rings floating out of her mouth. “With that, our business together is concluded.”

Before Theo could even say  _ goodbye _ or  _ thank you _ , The Entity snapped her fingers. She locked eyes with Devereux for only a split second before the world melted into darkness.

Perhaps it had been mere seconds, perhaps it had been an eternity, but when Theo opened her eyes, she was in a ritzy hotel room, decorated to the nines, with her luggage placed next to her. The room was far too extravagant for what she could afford, though, and she fumbled around, desperately trying to find a way to contact the front desk.

On the nightstand next to her beautiful, four-poster bed, she found a folded piece of paper addressed to her. It was firm cardstock, written in pristine handwriting that indicated a less-than-mortal hand. Somehow, it called to her.

Taking it into her hands, she unfolded it. It read:

_ Miss Wilkes, _

_ Before you begin your journey back to your home, I thought you deserved one night of relaxation, free from the responsibilities that have plagued you for so long. The room has already been paid for; you need not worry about the cost. Enclosed is a train ticket for New York City, first class. The train leaves tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM, from St. Louis Union Station. _

_ As is customary for all mortal involvement in the Divine, you are hereby forbidden from uttering a word of your experience to another mortal soul. You will remember your involvement, however, you will be henceforth unable to speak about it. _

_ Once again, thank you for your time, and service. _

_ Sincerely, The Entity _

_ Postscript. The sentence you chose for the one known as Mister Claudius Devereux is already in effect. _

So the room was paid for. She should have known. The Entity wouldn’t plop her down in an unpaid room— she had far too much decorum for that.

Theo wasn’t bothered by the forced imposition of the non-disclosure agreement. She hadn’t been planning on telling anyone about it, regardless. Though, from what she had both seen for herself, and from what she had heard from the others, she was hardly surprised by this course of action.

An explosion sounded outside, with a flash of bright green. Initially, the sound made Theo jump, though she quickly recovered. Another firework boomed, its beautiful, yellow light illuminating the room. Walking to the room’s balcony, she opened the French doors, overlooking St. Louis.

It was still the Fourth of July, and the city’s celebrations were in full swing. Fireworks dotted the skyline, filling most available space in the sky. Music and cheers wafted up from the streets below, rising in timbre with each colorful explosion.

Watching the sky, a serene sense of fulfillment overcame her. She had done it— against all odds. She had tripped, and fumbled, and made a few mistakes, but she had finished her quest. From here on out, she was sure she could conquer anything her life threw at her.

“I did it, Papa,” she whispered, her voice drowned out by the fireworks overhead. “It’s over.”


	12. Theodora Wilkes

That night, Theo dreamt. While she knew it was a dream, she relished in its surrealism, not at all bothered by the impossibility of its premise.

She stood at the edge of a meadow, sunshine filtering through white, puffy clouds as a gentle breeze blew past her. The tall grass swayed, flowers bowing to the wind, as she scanned her surroundings. She was alone, but she felt at peace.

“Theodora,” a voice called, not too far away.

Looking up, she saw her father standing in the middle of the meadow, smiling gently. Part of her was lucid enough to know that he  _ couldn’t _ have been standing there, that he was dead and gone, and yet, there he was, as clear as day.

“Papa?”

In response, he opened his arms to her. Rushing forward, she ran into his embrace. He hugged her tightly, his shaky breathing betraying his emotions. Whether he was shaking, or she was, or they both were, she couldn’t tell.

For a long time, they just stood there, hugging one another in silence. Birdsong filled the gaps in the silence, while the breeze blew through the treetops, marking the passing of seconds.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“I know, my girl,” he whispered back, swallowing hard. “I know.” Leaning back, he looked at her with tears in his eyes, and yet, he still smiled at her, pride and admiration etched into his visage. “I’m sorry for leaving you behind.”

She shook her head, biting her quivering lip. “Don’t say you’re sorry. It’s not your fault.”

Cupping her cheek, his smile faltered, tears falling from his eyes. He didn’t look as haggard as he had, nor did he seem to be as tormented. There was light in his eyes again, just like the old days. It was a version of her father that she hadn’t seen in years, and it eased her worries— even just slightly— to know that his suffering had ended.

“I’m so proud of you,” he breathed, his voice wavering. “You’re strong. You’re  _ incredibly _ strong. Never forget that.”

“But—” she faltered, lowering her gaze. “But what am I gonna do? I’m going back to New York; how am I gonna run the theatre without you there?”

“My girl,” he said, lowering himself so that she would make eye contact with him. “If only you knew that you’ve just conquered the heavens. You’ve done such extraordinary things already, and you’re still so young.” Wiping away one of her tears with his thumb, he smiled, gentle, at peace. “My hero, running the theatre? You’ll take the world by storm.”

Tilting her head forward, he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. It was something that she had missed dearly, and knowing that it would be the last time it would happen made it entirely bittersweet.

“You’re going to be okay.”

Stepping away, her father smiled at her, seeming farther away than ever before. Between them was an invisible abyss, impossible for her to cross, separating them. He had his world that he belonged to, and she had hers.

“The great Theodora Wilkes will live a long, extraordinary life!” he announced, dipping into his usual showmanship. Winking at her, he said, “Just you watch.”

Fighting off her sobs, she smiled, raising a hand, and waving at him.

“Until we meet again, right, Papa?”

“Until we meet again, my girl.”

Turning, he retreated to the far end of the meadow, his steps meaningful. There, before him, stood a woman that Theo hadn’t seen in a long, long time.

Theophilus took his wife’s hand as they both turned to look back at Theo, smiling, waving, the sunlight dancing across their faces. She waved back to her parents, knowing that it wasn’t  _ goodbye _ , but rather,  _ see you later. _

That morning, Theo started her journey home by sending a telegram to the theatre, announcing her return in a few days’ time. Dropping off her luggage with the porter, she thanked him with a generous tip. He tipped his hat to her, and showed her the train car that she would be boarding. Even from the outside, it looked incredibly extravagant.

One thing was for certain, The Entity didn’t cut  _ any _ costs on luxury.

As she was getting ready to board, she was stopped by a chorus of voices calling out her name. Spinning around, she was met with her favorite Divine golden retrievers, the Charleses.

“Charlie!” she called, rushing over to him, and throwing her arms around him in a big hug. “Oh, I completely forgot to find you yesterday! I hope you didn’t wait around for me.”

“The Entity told us that you were in good hands, Miss Wilkes,” he beamed. “Congratulations on finishing your quest! We knew you could do it, ma’am!”

“You’re amazin’!”

“Yeah, you are!”

“Ma’am, can I get your autograph?”

“Me, too!”

“Me, three!”

The Charleses clamored around her, a centralized mob of adoring, immortal fans. They sang her praises, a choir of admiration as their voices echoed throughout the train station. It called the attention of other passengers, the porters, even the  _ conductors _ .

And yet, Theo hardly paid them any mind. It was nice to be surrounded by such positive forces, especially compared to the last couple of days.

After she had given all of them autographs, and they were (momentarily) placated, she gave each Charles a big hug, leaning up on her tiptoes in order to wrap her arms behind their necks. Each and every one of them gave her a bear hug in return, though Charlie was the only one to pick her up when he hugged her.

“It’s been a pleasure, ma’am!”

“Right back at you, Charlie!” she laughed, attempting to hug him back with half the force as he was exerting in that moment. She failed, miserably, of course. When he set her down, she smiled up at him. “Thanks for everything.”

“‘Course, ma’am. You stay outta trouble, now.”

“You guys, too.” Patting him on the shoulder, she grinned. “Come visit me at the theatre, okay?”

He tipped his helmet to her. “We’ll try our best.”

“Already planning visits, Miss Wilkes?” a posh voice said, cutting through the cacophony of the train station. Spinning around, Theo was met with the beautiful and familiar image of The Entity. “You must have become quite acquainted with these gentlemen.”

“Madame!” the Charleses saluted.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” she nodded. “If you are done with your goodbyes, then you are hereby dismissed from the Wilkes case.”

“Yes, Madame! Understood, Madame!” they saluted again, clicking their heels together. “Farewell, Miss Wilkes!”

Theo smiled as she watched the Charleses march off, every step in unison, much like a marching band. They faded into the crowd— whether literally or metaphorically, she couldn’t tell.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, ma’am.” Melting into an easygoing smile, she continued, “Did you come to see me off?”

“Oh, but of course, Miss Wilkes,” she said. However, through all of her interactions with The Entity, Theo had learned that nothing was ever as it seemed. All the same, she appreciated the courtesy. “I could hardly let you return to your mundane life in New York without properly saying goodbye.”

Taking Theo’s hand in her own, she smiled, demure and perfectly collected. She was cold to the touch, unnaturally so, though that hardly surprised Theo. In that moment, she seemed the most human she had ever been. Theo only hoped it was because she was in good spirits.

“Safe travels, Miss Wilkes.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Theo smiled. “If it’s alright with you, could I give you a hug?”

The Entity blinked. It struck Theo that this must have been the first time she had seen her well and truly  _ surprised _ . She had always seen everything coming, possessing an odd sense of omniscience that only the Divine could begin to understand.

And yet, she hadn’t anticipated  _ this _ .

“Well—” she faltered, struggling to collect herself. “I… I suppose so.”

Theo hugged her, gently patting her on the back. She made sure not to linger for too long, as she was sure this sort of contact wasn’t commonplace for her. Leaning back, she beamed up at her half-obscured face.

“Thanks for the adventure, ma’am. I’ll always remember it, for as long as I live.”

The Entity’s expression softened, almost into something resembling affection, if she was even capable of it (which Theo wasn’t entirely convinced she was). She took Theo’s hand once more, patting it, reminiscent of a fairy godmother in a fairy tale. Almost.

_ The weirdest fairy godmother I’ve ever seen, _ Theo thought with a wry smile. For the first time in a while, the thought was entirely her own, and was shared with no one else.

Looking around, Theo scanned the faces in the crowd. She had had such a reunion, she half-expected Devereux to turn up. Alas, he was still keeping his distance from her.

Shame. She had had such a good idea, too.

“Looking for someone, Miss Wilkes?” The Entity asked, a knowing smile pulling at her lips. “Your ‘Divine Guide’, perhaps?”

“Well… honestly, yeah. I guess I’m not surprised he’s not coming to wish me  _ bon voyage _ .”

“Allow me to amend that, then.”

“No, it’s—” However, The Entity had already waved her hand, and the rest of Theo’s protest was cut off by the sudden and inexplicable appearance of one Claudius Devereux, who looked just as surly as the last time she had seen him.

“Yes, Madame?” he asked, carefully avoiding Theo’s gaze. The Entity cleared her throat, but he ignored the hint, instead rolling his eyes. “I was under the impression that I had already said my goodbyes. Not only that, but I thought I made it perfectly clear I didn’t want to see her again.”

“Listen, pal, I’m not saying that we should be the best of friends, but at least let me give you a peace offering,” Theo grumbled. Devereux rolled his eyes again, and sighed. Sulking brat. “You can’t do your Divine work, right?”

“Of course not, thanks to your little curse.”

“So what’re you gonna do for the next century?” she asked, a hint of challenging ire creeping into her tone. “Sulk and feel sorry for yourself?” He didn’t answer, but also didn’t look at her, which gave her the impression that the answer was a resounding  _ yes _ . “Wow, you’re not even  _ trying _ to adapt to your situation? That’s a little pathetic, don’t you think?”

“You’d know plenty about being pathetic, wouldn’t you?” he spat back, finally glaring at her.

If The Entity hadn’t been present, she was sure he would have bitten her head off— literally  _ or  _ metaphorically. Opening his mouth, he prevented himself from insulting her further, instead choosing to cross his arms across his chest, and huff.

Theo sighed. “Listen. A century is a long time to have  _ nothing _ to do, so I was thinking… I’d extend a bit of an olive branch, and…” she trailed off with another sigh. She couldn’t believe she was  _ actually _ going to offer this, but it was worth a shot. “Why don’t you come stay at the theatre?”

For the second time that day, she shocked The Entity, though her expression melted into one of chaotic mirth. Devereux, on the other hand… was quite the opposite. Setting his jaw, he slowly turned to look at her.

“ _ What _ ?” he asked, pointed and far too enunciated.

“I was thinking, you’re a damn good actor. You had  _ me _ fooled, and, well, it’s not like you have anything better to do, so why not take this time to get a hobby?”

“You  _ are _ an idiot. Either that, or a lunatic.”

“It takes one to know one, buddy,” she grumbled, which he returned with a sneer. “All I’m saying is that you might actually have fun, y’know? If we could just fix your sour attitude, you’d be half-tolerable.”

“I wouldn’t spend more time with you if I was held at  _ gunpoint _ —”

“I think that is a lovely idea, Miss Wilkes,” The Entity interjected, her grin widening. “How inventive of you.”

“Madame, don’t feed into—”

“I wholeheartedly agree that Mister Devereux requires a hobby. Perhaps he could learn a thing or two about humanity by spending his enforced sabbatical amongst them.”

“No!” he protested, wriggling away from the two women that were bound and determined to ruin the rest of his existence. “No, no, no! I will  _ not _ lower myself to their plane! I refuse!”

Devereux continued to protest, much like a petulant child, though Theo paid little attention to him. The Entity, however, continued to speak down to him, reminding him of his previous count of insubordination, and  _ gently _ reassuring him that he did not have much of a choice.

Theo barely listened to their banter, instead keeping an eye on the time. She wasn’t about to miss her train because this absolute toddler of a man decided to throw a temper tantrum.

“And! Another thing! This could  _ never _ work because I won’t age! What’s gonna happen in ten years, when they’re all aging, and I look the same as the day I showed up, huh?” he laughed, near hysterical, as if this was the end-all, be-all point that would make or break his case.

The Entity considered this, falling quiet for a moment. The fact that she didn’t immediately shoot it down was apparently encouraging to Devereux, whose chest puffed up in triumph.

_ No wonder he hates Vabsley, _ Theo thought bitterly,  _ they both have egos the size of the Delaware River. _

“That is a fantastic point, Mister Devereux,” The Entity mused. Affirming his victory only made him  _ more _ smug. Her gaze flicked over to him, calculated and icy. “Then, I suppose I shall have to amend such an oversight.”

Both Theo and Devereux gasped, squawking out a shrill  _ WHAT? _ But it was too late. The Entity had made up her mind, and, with a snap of her fingers, an odd green smoke surrounded Devereux, consuming him whole. Theo watched in horror, completely helpless, and entirely unsure of what she  _ could _ do, anyway.

When the smoke cleared, he stood there, wide-eyed, panicked, much like when he had been subjected to his  _ first _ punishment from The Entity.

“What did you do?” he choked. Grabbing The Entity by the collar in a frenzy, he screamed,  _ “WHAT DID YOU  _ **_DO?!”_ **

“Exactly what I promised to do, Mister Devereux,” she smiled, cold and unfeeling, her teeth just a  _ little _ too sharp. “As you are currently entirely useless to me, you may as well live as a human being.” Her eyes narrowed in a sneering grimace. “Do enjoy the time you have, there is so very little of it.”

The blood drained from his face, and, releasing his hold of her collar, his legs buckled beneath him. Collapsing to the floor, his head bowed in humiliated defeat. He didn’t even have the strength to protest, it seemed.

Leaning over, The Entity took hold of his chin, and forced his head back, meeting his empty gaze.

“The next time you consider insubordination, Mister Devereux, remember this moment. Had you not murdered your colleague, I would have murdered  _ you _ .” Once again, her voice took on the ethereal edge that it had in the sitting room, just the day before. “The only reason you are still alive is that I would rather only fill  _ one _ position, rather than  _ two _ .”

Releasing him, she straightened, and, with a flourish, presented a ticket to him between her two fingers.

“Your ticket to New York City, Mister Devereux. I shall see you in a century.” He didn’t take it. The Entity locked eyes with Theo, who was still too flabbergasted to properly react to what had just taken place. “Miss Wilkes, I leave this pitiful creature in your care. I trust you will reform him of his insolence.”

“Uh—” was all she could manage before The Entity vanished in a puff of smoke, the ticket fluttering to the ground before Devereux’s knees.

Theo looked around, somewhat frantic.  _ Someone _ must have seen that whole spectacle— and yet, no one was reacting. Leave it to The Entity to do something that brash in public, and yet, remain invisible.

Picking up Devereux’s ticket, she handed it to him. He snatched it from her hands.

“C’mon. We should board.”

“I’m not going.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think you really have a choice,” she frowned. “Now, you can stay here, on the ground, like a little kid, or you can get on that train, and make the best of your crummy situation.”

_ Now _ they were starting to get attention. A full grown man sitting on the ground, throwing a proper temper tantrum, wasn’t something that the public saw every day. Theo was acutely aware of the gazes that landed on them, although she tried to ignore them.

“How about this? You come to New York, give the theatre life a shot for a month or two, and if you hate it, then you can get lost, alright?” Offering her hand to him, she gave him an emphatic look. “At least you’d have a place to stay for a bit.”

“Why are you so keen on this idea of yours?”

“I thought it was your just desserts, at first, but I didn’t know that The Entity would turn you into a human. You kinda got  _ yourself  _ into that mess.” With a slight roll of her eyes, she continued, “At least if you joined the theatre, you’d have a roof over your head. That’s more than I can say about staying here.”

His eyes flicked to her outstretched hand, narrowing at the sight of it. Though he looked absolutely miserable at the notion of it, he took her hand, and pulled himself to his feet.

“I ought to make your life miserable, in return,” he grumbled as he dusted himself off.

“Just remember where it got you in the first place,” she grumbled back as she headed to her train car. “C’mon, Claude.”

“Oh? We’re on a first-name basis now, are we?”

“Always have been, pal.”

As the steward led them to their first-class, private compartment, Claude continued to make little quips and unnecessary remarks under his breath. She only rolled her eyes, and ignored him.

Internally, she refused to refer to him as Claudius, as she still thought it was a profoundly stupid name, so Claude would just have to do. Hopefully, he would take to the nickname. Otherwise, he’d be the laughing stock of  _ her _ theatre, and that was the last thing she needed.

Sitting opposite one another, they made themselves as comfortable as they could be, considering their company.

“I cannot  _ believe  _ I am going to be stuck with you for the next  _ century _ ,” he seethed.

“So you  _ are _ planning on staying in New York.”

“Not on your life.”

“Suit yourself.” Unfolding the newspaper she had bought earlier, she fell silent as she read it. The only problem with this, however, was that Claude insisted on staring at her— and not exactly in the flattering way. “Yes?”

“Nothing,” he quipped, convincing absolutely no one.

The train lurched to a start, slowly pulling out of the station. It was the beginning of the end of a long journey, and it was hard to believe that he had been there every step of the way. She might as well have been traveling with a complete stranger for her trip home.

After about thirty minutes of strained silence— aside from the chugging of the train engine, and the gentle flipping of newspaper pages— there was a knock on their compartment door. It opened, revealing a friendly-looking, middle-aged woman, with a cart filled with refreshments.

“Hello, dears. Might I interest you in some coffee, or breakfast?”

“Coffee would be great, thanks,” Theo smiled. “Claude? You want anything?”

His eyes lit up— truly, the most life she had seen in him since they had left the station— and a suave, easy-going smile bloomed on his lips. It was one that Theo recognized, much to her dismay.

_ What is this fool planning? _

“Just the sight of your beautiful smile, ma’am, has left me completely full,” he said, leaning closer to the stewardess, and bowing slightly. Was he trying to woo her? It was a pretty weak attempt, especially for his standards.

The stewardess blinked momentarily before breaking into a bright smile.

“Oh! You dear!” she chuckled, patting Claude on the head. Theo coughed to suppress her laughter, though, much like his wooing, it was a rather weak attempt. He shot her a dirty look as the woman continued, “What a nice young man you are.”

“... Thank you, ma’am,” he sighed. Looks like The Entity hadn’t been kidding about how useless he was.

Laughing lightly, the woman pinched his cheek, gave Theo her coffee, and took her leave, no more wooed than when she had stepped in. Theo watched him, the light steadily leaving his eyes once more, biting on her lip to stop herself from laughing in his face. He caught her eye, and frowned.

“Don’t say a  _ word _ .”

“I’d never,” she squeaked, almost bursting into a fit of giggles, right then and there.

When Theo suggested that he have absolutely no influence over anybody, she didn’t think that watching him flounder would be so delightful.

“Just remember,  _ you’re _ still susceptible to my charms,” he smirked, as if this made any difference in their relationship, or what she thought of him.

Sipping her coffee, a fine point entered her stream of consciousness, blooming into a fully-grown counterargument.

“But since you’re human now,” she mused, holding her cup to her lips. “Doesn’t that mean that  _ you _ could actually fall for  _ me _ ?” He sputtered, visibly insulted. In fact, he was  _ so _ insulted, that he couldn’t form words to argue with her about how  _ asinine _ her logic was. “Just something to keep in mind.”

Once more, they fell into silence. After finishing her coffee, and her paper, she leaned her head against the window, watching the scenery rush by. Her heart yearned for her home, her theatre, her family.

She couldn’t keep them waiting any longer.

After several days of flip-flopping between battle of wits and prolonged, painful silences, Theo and Claude finally made it to New York City’s Grand Central Terminal. All she wanted was a hot bath, and a night of peace, away from her travel companion.

Carrying her own luggage— of  _ course  _ Claude wasn’t acting the part of the gentleman anymore— she led him to the theatre. Despite all of his griping and moaning and complaining, he really had no better place to go.

The sun was just setting by the time they turned onto the street that housed  _ The Starry-Eyed Fortuna _ , twilight creeping into the sky above, painting everything in a surreal, purple-grey hue. Claude had made some quip about how the humble setting really suited the Wilkes’ theatre, to which Theo quipped back that he would have to be just as humble as they were.

Finally, the theatre came into view. All of the lights were on, dazzling in the twilit evening, but what made her gasp were the words on the marquee:

**WELCOME BACK THEO**

**WE MISSED YOU**

Luggage in hand, she ran forward, clumsy and off-kilter.

“Hey!” she called. “Everyone! I’m back!”

“Theo? Is that you?”

“Hey, everyone! It’s Theo!”

“She’s back!”

Within moments, the front doors slammed open, and a mob of cast and crew rushed out, swallowing Theo into one giant group hug. They fought off tears as they welcomed her back, proclaiming how worried they had been, how she had been gone longer than they thought she would be, how the theatre just wasn’t the same without her there.

With bear hugs and sloppy kisses to the cheeks and forehead, she was welcomed back, wholly amongst her people, her fellow humans, once more. In the insanity of her supernatural adventure, she hadn’t realized how much she had missed all of them. Now, being in their embraces, she allowed herself to soften, to let her walls crumble… to be herself, first and foremost.

Amidst the affectionate avalanche, she caught Claude’s eye, standing away from the rest of the group. She had never thought she would see the day where he looked awkward, and out of place, but that day was certainly it.

“Everyone,” she said, projecting her voice over the cacophony of their admiration. “I found us a new recruit while I was away.” Gesturing to him, the whole crowd turned, all eyes fixed on him. “I want all of you to meet Claude Devereux. Treat him well, okay?”

He was barely able to get his hat off his head before he, too, was swallowed in the crowd, everyone throwing their arms around him, welcoming him to the theatre, patting him on the back with far too much force. It had been about five seconds, and already, he was part of the family.

“Great to meet you, Claude!”

“What’s your specialty? Singing, dancing, or acting?”

“Where did you meet Theo?”

“What theatres were you playing at before this?”

Theo let the cast and crew get their introductions out of the way, their excited babbling filling the entire street with noise. There, in the middle of the street, they stood, exchanging stories and heartfelt hellos. Multiple actors cried, and when their tears dried up, all they had to do was look at her for about five seconds, and they started crying all over again.

Nobody went inside until well past dark. Even then, they all congregated on the stage, leading Theo by the hand. Pointing downstage, she didn’t see the crater that the falling light had left. Rather, it was completely fixed.

“Wha—?” she gasped. “How did you guys fix it? Where did we get the funds?”

The cast clamored over one another in an effort to tell the story: a few days after she had left, people began filing in, one after another, dropping in donations to help fix the stage, and to help keep the theatre afloat. All of Theophilus’ former actors and stagehands brought in any spare cash they had lying around, donating it to  _ The Starry-Eyed Fortuna. _

Truly, her father’s reach had been legendary. Most actors off-Broadway, and even some who were  _ on _ Broadway, knew who he had been, and wanted to keep his dream alive. Because, above all else, he had passion, he had heart, and he cared about others before himself.

He would live on in the hearts of all of those that he had helped. Everyone who came in described him as the most selfless man they had ever met; someone who had been generous, and kind. No matter where people had come from, whatever their stories had been, he would give them a chance, which is more than they could say for others in the same profession.

Even after they had made enough to fix the stage, and then some, people continued to donate. They knew that Theo would have a hard road ahead of her, and they wanted to help her however they could.

Listening to this with misty eyes, she pulled her quivering lips into a smile. Her father’s legacy was the stuff of legend, and she was honored to take up the torch in his stead. From the darkness of his shadow, she would emerge, holding her head high, and proud.

The extraordinary life of Theodora Wilkes had only just begun.

  
  


**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, at the end! Thank you to everyone who came on this journey with me, whether it was from the very beginning, or if you're just coming in now. I really appreciate all of the support, all of the reactions, and the kind words. This has been one hell of a journey (pun semi-intended), and I'm excited to start the next chapter of my life, and my writing career.
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day! <3


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